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THE 

GOLDEN EAGLE 


I 







With a sudden roar of wind in his ears, Pelham clutched the boom 


' THE 

GOLDEN EAGLE 


BY 

ALLEN FRENCH 

Author of “The Runaway,” “The Junior 
Cup,” “Sir Marrok,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

C. M. RELYEA 




NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 
1917 


Copyright, 1917, by 
The Century Co. * 


Published September , 191 7 



SEP 20 1917 l ' ( \^~ 
e/ 


©CI.A473591 


TO 

MY DAUGHTER ELLEN 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Westerner 3 

II The Squall 21 

III A Rescue 33 

IV Neil — and Bert 50 

V A Rich Man’s Son 64 

VI The Loss of the Eagle 79 

VII Lois, Detective 96 

VIII The Dredge 113 

IX An Ad-Venture 128 

X Hen and Chickens 149 

XI What Girls Can Do 168 

XII A Change of Heart 184 

XIII The Last Race for the Eagle .... 203 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

With a sudden roar of wind in his ears, Pelham 
clutched the boom Frontispiece 

“And here, I suppose,’ ’ said Harriet “is the miss- 


ing chauffeur” 9 

Pelham felt himself leaping from the gunwale . . 43 

Jones, again erect, kept his back to them .... 107 

Lois slipped over the side and began to swim to the 
other boat 137 

The valiant little lamp sent out its light with un- 
diminished brightness 165 

Ruth held her boat true to its course 213 



THE GOLDEN EAGLE 









THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


CHAPTER I 

THE WESTERNER 

P ELHAM ceased his tramping up and down, 
and stood at the edge of the float. “Dis- 
gusting!” said he. 

Rising from the little trunk, Harriet came to his 
side. “Oh, but see how beautiful it all is!” 

“Beautiful?” sniffed Pelham. “Nothing but 
water and flat coasts. Not a hill to look at!” 

“See the yachts,” urged Harriet. “I never 
saw so many before. Out there they must be rac- 
ing.” 

“But this afternoon our nine is playing a 
match,” snapped Pelham. 

Harriet began to laugh, a low laugh and en- 
joyable, pleasant to hear. “And the boys at Col- 
ton don’t play ball at all. Is that the trouble?” 

The lad turned to his sister. “I suppose it is,” 
he said honestly. “The fellows where we ’re go- 
ing do nothing but sail.” 

“They swim,” reminded Harriet. 

3 


4 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“So we do at home,” retorted the boy. “But 
I know nothing of sailing, nothing! I never was 
in a sail-boat in my life.” 

“Time you began,” replied Harriet. Her ig- 
norance was as great as his. 

“Oh,” he returned, “I hate to make a fool of 
myself among strangers. And suppose I ’m sea- 
sick! What would Howard think of me? I may 
be sick on the trip over; it looks rough out there 
on the bay — WLy don’t we start, anyway?” he 
demanded, interrupting himself. “Where is the 
boat that was to meet us? Was Kuth or Howard 
coming, do you know?” 

“I don’t,” answered Harriet. “You know I 
expected a letter this morning, before we left 
home. The first letter merely told us to come 
to this place at this time. ’ ’ 

Pelham, inattentive, walked to the other side 
of the float and looked down into a large cat-boat 
that was tied there. “Venture; what a name! I 
bet this is the boat that was sent for us. They ’re 
probably looking for us at the railroad station. 
Even in as big a boat as this, if the trip up the 
bay is ten miles, I bet we don’t get there before 
dark. Oh, Lord, I never knew anything duller 
than waiting on this float.” 


THE WESTERNER 5 

Harriet seated herself. ‘ ‘ And I could wait here 
by the hour — Oh, Pelham, look!” 

Pelham was already looking. Their float, one 
of several that were moored side by side along 
the water front of a seaside town, was reached 
by a gang-plank that led down from a little pier. 
At the pier end stood a girl perhaps fifteen, taller 
than Harriet and slenderer, very simply dressed. 
She was burdened with two suitcases, along the 
top of one of which was strapped an umbrella; 
and, thus encumbered, she stood hesitating before 
the narrow gang-plank between whose railings 
she would have to carry her baggage. 

“Let me help!” cried Pelham, and ran up to 
the pier. 

The girPs dark eyes smiled into his. Releasing 
to him the clumsier of the suitcases, she thanked 
him, and went down the long swaying plank with 
an ease that he tried in vain to imitate. “Need 
my sea-legs already, ’ ’ he grumbled. ‘ 1 She knows 
the water, all right — Don’t mention it.” And 
bowing, he set the suitcase down by the girl, and 
went to his sister ’s side. 

“She was on our train,” said Harriet softly. 
“I saw her get on at the last junction. You and I 
took the only carriage at the station, and so she 


6 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


could n ’t get here till now. She ’s a most in- 
teresting girl, Pelly.” 

“Bully hair,” agreed Pelham, who admired 
brunettes. 4 4 Awfully nice smile.” 

Harriet continued to study the girl, who was 
looking with interest down into the cat-boat. 
4 4 Any girl with a nice smile can fool any boy,” 
she replied with sisterly irony. 4 4 She has a very 
steady eye, Pelham, and a very firm mouth.” 

Pelham was not attending. 4 4 Oh!” he said. 

Harriet knew the expression of dismay. 
4 4 What have you done now?” 

Pelham was fumbling with papers that his hand 
had encountered in his pocket. 44 I forgot these 
entirely,” he mumbled apologetically, as he dis- 
entangled a letter from among them. 44 I got this 
for you at the post-office last night.” 

“Buth’s letter!” cried Harriet, seizing it. 
4 4 Oh, Pelham, supposing she told us not to 
come ! 9 9 

Guiltily Pelham waited, till a bright nod from 
Harriet reassured him. Then, with a quick look 
at the other girl upon the float, she said in a low 
voice, 4 4 Come and read over my shoulder.” 
Standing beside her, he began to read where she 
pointed. 


THE WESTERNER 


7 


I am sorry that Howard and I can’t meet you across 
the bay. But the races have been changed, and we 
simply must not miss a single one of the series for the 
Golden Eagle, and we have to take the two boatmen with 
us. But the chauffeur knows a good deal about boats, 
and a good deal more about engines, and he will be 
waiting for you at the float in our motor-cat, the Ven- 
ture. 

“That is the boat, then,” thought Pelham. He 
read on. 

And you will meet there, too, my schoolmate Lois 
Weatherbee. I am so glad you are to meet her; I had 
given up hope of it this summer. She is from the West, 
an orphan, and she has no home. She is at my board- 
ing-school under the wing of old Mrs. Townsend, who is 
our patroness-in-chief ; she meant to have had Lois with 
her this summer, but she fell ill. Of course we girls 
jumped at the chance of having Lois visit us — but I 
was too late : in no time Lois was engaged for the whole 
summer. But the other day she wrote me there was 
serious illness where she was visiting, her room was 
needed for the trained nurse, and might she, Lois, come 
to me for the rest of the month. Of course I telegraphed 
her to come; you may even meet on the train. She is 
dark, and wears a blue traveling suit. At any rate, 
you will meet her at the float. 

Lois is about our age, but more mature, more experi- 
enced; she thinks more than I do about people and 
things. If you don’t like her — !! 

Harriet rustled the letter together, and sprang 
up. “And so you’re Lois Weatherbee!” 


8 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


The girl by the cat-boat turned. She was self- 
possessed, Pelham thought, as she met so quietly 
his sister’s eager approach. But she readily took 
Harriet’s proffered hand, and smiled as she had 
smiled at him. To Harriet’s explanation and in- 
troduction she listened without moving, and Pel- 
ham noted how her glance, remaining for the most 
part on Harriet’s face, nevertheless took quick 
little excursions over her dress, rested briefly on 
Harriet’s hands, and finally darted inquiringly at 
him. Somehow he felt that she had catalogued 
the whole of him in less than a second. 

“ Reserved, by Jove!” he thought. “I know 
that kind. They ’re stiff as pokers.” 

But he came forward when Harriet called him, 
and ‘ ‘ did his manners ’ ’ quite as coolly as Lois did 
hers. 

“And here, I suppose,” said Harriet, “is the 
missing chauffeur.” 

A man, hasty of step and worried of manner, had 
appeared at the head of the gangway; he wore a 
chauffeur’s flat cap and leather leggings. Seeing 
them, his face brightened, and he hurried to the 
float. “Miss Dodd? Miss Weatherbee? I am 
Mr. Winslow’s chauffeur, come to meet you. I 


And here, I suppose , ” said Harriet, “is the missing chauffeur 












































«: 


















■ 


























‘ 



























. 







THE WESTERNER 11 

missed yon in the town, and wondered where you 
could be. ’ 9 

As he spoke he thrust back into his breast pocket 
the stem of a new pipe, and smoothed down the 
sides of his jacket, which bulged as if with other 
purchases. 

4 4 Lying, ’ 9 thought Pelham. ‘ 4 Oh, dear ! ’ 9 

He perceived that the man had not said that he 
had tried to meet them in the town ; he remembered 
that the letter promised that the man would meet 
them at the float; he knew that the time of the 
train’s arrival must have been told him. He no- 
ticed that the man’s face, aquiline and regular, 
might have been pleasing but for eyes that wav- 
ered in their glance, and would not meet his 
squarely. And Pelham’s opinion of the coming 
fortnight, away from his chums and his hills and 
his beloved baseball, sank lower. He was always 
sensitive to the people about him, even the serv- 
ants ; and he classed the tricky chauffeur, of whom 
he expected to see little, and the cool schoolgirl, of 
whom he might see a good deal, in with the sailing 
which would bore him and the seasickness which 
would bring him disgrace. He knew that he 
should n’t like his visit, 


12 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


The chauffeur sprang into the cat-boat, and 
lifted in the suitcases. Pelham helped him to se- 
cure Harriet’s little square trunk in the middle of 
the boat. Seeing Lois, after she had stepped into 
the boat, cast a glance at the outer bay and begin 
to pin her hat firmer, an example which Harriet at 
once followed, he dove into the little storehouse 
of a cabin where the man had put the suitcases. 
Opening his own, he rummaged for a cap. The 
smell of the place, tarry and fishy, oppressed him, 
especially since at the moment the boat chose to 
roll a little. “Seasick, sure!” he groaned. But 
crawling out again, with his cap fixed firmly on 
his head, and his sweater at hand, he saw a sight 
that roused his interest. 

The man had removed the cover of a large box 
that was fixed below the steering-wheel. There 
was revealed a little marine engine, oily and 
greasy, and quite as smelly as the cabin which 
Pelham had just quitted. But he was delighted at 
the sight. His big brother’s automobile was his 
latest craze. To understand it he had been study- 
ing up about gasolene engines — and here was 
one! “Oh!” he cried, delighted. And the girls 
laughed. 

“So we aren’t going to sail?” he asked. “I 


THE WESTERNER 13 

was afraid we were. Is that the carburetor? 
Only two cylinders! Oh, do let me start her! 
Where ’s the crank ?” 

“ There is no crank/ ’ said the man, amused. 

“ A self-starter ?” inquired Pelly. “How does 
it work?” 

“Nor a self-starter either,” replied the man. 
He showed Pelham a pin sunk in the rim of the 
solid little fly-wheel. “Pull it out,” he directed, 
adjusting other parts. “Now swing the wheel to 
the right — be ready to let the pin go — swing far- 
ther this time, and snap her back hard. Good!” 
And the little engine began its racking labor. 

“Cover it!” cried Harriet. “Do shut in that 
noise !” 

“Oh!” protested Pelham. 

“I can stand it,” said Lois quietly to Harriet. 
They decided to let him have his fun. 

“Wait,” said the man, and with his screwdriver 
he took off a couple of boards that had helped to 
cover in the little machine. 

When Pelham, crouched beside the little engine 
and studying its action, had finished with his thou- 
sand and one questions and finally covered the 
motor, he found the scene changed. The girls had 
bound their hats on with veils and wore their 


14 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


sweaters ; when he had put on his own he did not 
remember. A little spray blew in his face as he 
looked up; the broad boat rose over a swell, 
plunged downward, and revealed the whole length 
of the bay as tossing blue and flecked with white- 
caps. The shore ahead was miles away; looking 
back, the place that they had left seemed equally 
far. The air was hazy, and big clouds hung low ; 
but the salt in the breeze was very refreshing, and 
as soon as Pelham satisfied himself that there was 
none of that sidewise swaying that he disliked so 
much, he felt at his ease. Looking at the girls, he 
saw them seated side by side, and Harriet smiling 
at him. 

6 ‘ Seasick yet?” she asked. 

“Too busy,” he answered. 

Lois was looking intently forward across the 
tumbling water. Its surface was purest blue, 
broken by splashes of white: every instant it 
shifted restlessly. She looked aside to the west, 
and Pelham’s eyes, following her gaze, saw every- 
thing a glimmer of tossing tops and leaping spray, 
bright against the sun. Once more she looked for- 
ward to the blue, and unconsciously drew a long 
breath. 

“You like it?” asked Pelham, lightly. 


THE WESTERNER 


15 


The intenseness of her answer fixed his atten- 
tion. “I love it!” she said, almost under her 
breath. 

And then he saw that her gaze, which she never 
removed from the distant water, had in it some- 
thing almost pathetic, as if she were greeting a 
friend long lost. 

“One would think,” he remarked, “that you 
had been brought up at the shore, instead of in 
the West.” 

The spell of her absorption was broken. “And 
if I was brought up in the West, what then?” she 
demanded. 

“How can a ranch girl,” he asked, “feel at home 
on the water?” 

She laughed so joyously that he was taken aback. 
“Oh, dear!” she cried, “call a girl a Westerner, 
and any Easterner at once concludes that her fa- 
vorite occupation is scalping Indians. Some day 
I shall die of it!” 

“Oh, well,” grumbled Pelham, nettled. “But 
if you aren’t from a ranch — ?” 

“Why,” cried Lois, “I have sailed for summer 
after summer in San Francisco Bay.” But then 
to his great relief, instead of triumphing over him, 
she went on: “As for my loving the water, let 


16 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


me ask you a question. Are you — No, of course 
you are n’t.” 

‘ ‘Are n’t what?” he demanded. 

“Fond of poetry,” she answered mischievously. 
“Or perhaps of music.” 

Harriet was laughing, and again Pelham was 
nettled. “No, I ’m glad to say I ’m neither.” 

“His music lessons!” cried Harriet. “His 
practising!” She was delighted, and the chauf- 
feur at the wheel was grinning. 

“Stop it!” growled Pelham. “I gave up my 
music two years ago.” 

Though Harriet still was laughing, Lois was 
not. “I think I understand,” she said, and he 
liked the sympathy in her eyes. “You care for 
mechanics ? ’ ’ 

“Engines,” said Pelham. “And mills, and 
looms, and even dye-pots. They Ye — ” He hesi- 
tated, hut then, encouraged by her sympathy, he 
spoke his feeling, crudely. “They Ye fine!” 

She looked at him very kindly. “But then,” 
she went on, “you ought to be able to see that a 
girl who loves music, and poetry, could love the 
water.” 

When her eyes, as if drawn away, fixed them- 
selves on the blue waves, Pelham knew he under- 


THE WESTERNER 


17 


stood. He answered, “I really see,” but he 
doubted if she heard him. And so he understood 
more clearly still. 

But as he could not forever watch the waves 
which so fascinated her, he turned his attention 
to the boat. “Pretty broad,” he said to the man. 

‘ ‘ She ’s a bay cat-boat, ’ * the chauffeur explained. 
“I ’ve heard Mr. Winslow tell how they were de- 
veloped here by the fishermen as the best all-round 
model for the bay, where the water is shallow, 
and the storms come quick. We kick up a lively 
little sea here in almost no time ; and these light- 
draft boats, with their center-boards — ” 

“Center-boards?” interrupted Pelham. 

The man pointed to a narrow low partition that 
ran half the length of the cockpit in which they 
sat. It was open at the top, and, stooping for- 
ward to look into it, Pelham discovered that the 
water was splashing and gurgling inside. A rope 
ran up from the water, and was firmly secured to 
a cleat at the top. 

“The board ’s half down,” said the man. “It 
serves as a short keel that you can pull up or let 
down as you wish. Just now it steadies us a 
little.” 

Pelham looked at the sail, which, tightly furled 


18 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

upon the long boom that ran above his head and 
was securely lashed in a crutch, seemed not to 
have been used for weeks. “You don’t use it 
often?” 

“Only when something goes wrong with the 
engine. The sail ought really to have a sail-case 
to keep it from getting wet, but Mr. Winslow’s 
rule is to take the case off whenever we leave the 
harbor, to be ready for emergencies. For my own 
part, I think a sail is entirely useless. ’ ’ 

Pelham thought so too. To him just then 
horses, and sails, and in fact any other motive 
power than gasolene and steam, had no reason for 
existing. But he saw a little shrug of Lois ’ shoul- 
ders. 

“You prefer sails?” he asked. 

“Sails above everything,” she answered. 

They were now drawing near the head of the 
bay, and the man began to point out landmarks. 
He saw headlands, bays, and coves which Pelham 
found difficulty in distinguishing ; but the boy could 
understand the meaning of a low lighthouse a mile 
or so ahead, and was pleased to learn that it 
marked the opening of Colton Harbor. 

But Lois for her part began to display a prac- 
tical interest in her surroundings. She inquired 


THE WESTERNER 


19 


the depth of water off the nearer point, wished to 
be shown the buoys to be rounded, the rocks to 
avoid. Were there shallows, sandbars, tide-rips? 
Pelham saw that she was asking questions which 
the man had some difficulty in answering. 

“I suppose yachtsmen are like that,” thought 
Pelham. ‘ 4 They are like the guides that we had 
in Maine, that would squat by the fire half the 
night, drawing maps on the ground, and telling 
each other how to get from place to place.” He 
was roused by an exclamation from Harriet, who 
pointed toward the misty western shore. 

Out of the haze was emerging a line of boats, 
small of hull, tall of spar, with full spreads of 
canvas. All on the same tack, they followed each 
other in beautiful order. “ A race!” he cried. 

“No,” returned the man. “That ’s the Colton 
fleet returning from the races at Marlow, five miles 
across the bay. They are headed for home; we 
ought to pass into the harbor together.” 

He began to explain which boat was which. 
Howard Winslow’s was leading; his sister Ruth’s 
was third. “Then,” asked Harriet, “the girls 
have their own boats ? ’ ’ 

“Just like the young men,” replied the chauf- 
feur. “They sail and swim like boys, every one. 


20 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

Brought up on the water, most of them were.” 

Harriet sat more erect. She loved to sail, she 
wanted to learn, and her chief fear had been that 
the girls would not stand a chance among the 
boys. The news promised her all she wanted. 

‘ ‘ How curious ! ’ ’ cried Pelham. ‘ 4 See that long 
yellow streamer on Ruth Winslow’s boat.” 

“It ’s still there, then,” said the man. “I was 
just looking for it. So Colton still holds the 
Golden Eagle. You see,” he explained, “there is 
a three-year trophy which Colton and Marlow have 
been fighting for since 1914. It ’s a handsome 
little eagle, six inches high, to be held by the 
boat winning the most races in the fifteen-foot 
class. The Eagle stays with each summer’s win- 
ner through the next year, and there ’s a pennant 
that is passed along to the winner of each race. 
Fred Barnes won the first year, Howard Winslow 
has held the Eagle this summer, and his sister 
has won the pennant for the last three races. 
This race gives her the year’s championship, 
a tie with the two boys. There will have to be a 
final race to settle the ownership of the Eagle.” 

Harriet held her head higher still. If only Ruth 
would let her race in her boat ! 


CHAPTER II 


THE SQUALL 

‘ 1/>UNNY how dull the day is getting,” re- 
A marked Pelham. He found it difficult to dis- 
tinguish the boats at scarcely a mile’s distance. 

“And the wind is falling,” responded the chauf- 
feur. “We shall beat them to the harbor after 
all.” 

Lois was looking keenly about. She glanced 
toward the horizon, where the haze was steadily 
growing darker ; she looked overhead, where there 
seemed to he no cloud, hut simply a gathering 
murkiness ; she wetted a finger, and held it to the 
dying wind. Then she nodded her head. 

4 4 There ’s going to be a squall ! ’ ’ 

The man laughed a little. “Oh, no,” he said 
easily. “This will amount to nothing.” 

Pelham agreed with him. He had never seen a 
storm come out of such a cloud as this. Really it 
was no cloud at all. 

Lois said nothing more. Her firm little mouth 
expressed a good deal as she settled herself in her 
21 


22 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


seat (“Obstinate,” thought Pelham), but she made 
no protest. It was Harriet who spoke next. 

“What are the yachts doing?” 

The sail-boats, which had all been bending in 
the same direction, had suddenly come upright. 
Their sails were shivering, and the high peaks of 
some were already falling. As Pelham looked at 
the nearest, its large sail began to flutter down. 

Lois, after one look, raised her head triumph- 
antly. “They are reefing. A squall is coming.” 
She turned to the man. “What is your name?” 

6 ‘ Bert, ’ ’ he answered, a little sulkily. 

“Bert,” she asked, “aren’t there some oilskins 
on board?” 

“In the cabin,” he said, jerking his head toward 
it. 

She moved across Pelham and laid her hand on 
the wheel which the man held. ‘ ‘ Fetch them out, ’ ’ 
she said. “I will steer.” 

For a moment Pelham thought that the man was 
going to refuse ; then with a grumble he released 
the wheel and went to the little cabin. Reluctantly 
he crawled in. Pelham and Harriet looked at 
each other ; then covertly the boy stole a glance at 
Lois. She was sitting upright, watching the 


THE SQUALL ' 23 

water; but as she felt the boy’s eye on her she 
said, without changing her position, 

“You ’d better throw that spare sail over the 
trunk, to keep it dry.” 

Pelham finished tucking the canvas around the 
trunk just as Bert came crawling from the cabin, 
pushing before him a pile of sticky yellow cloth, 
in which Pelham tried in vain to find the semblance 
of anything useful. He had heard of oilskins ; but 
until the man, standing up, began to twitch the 
heap into its separate parts, he had never realized 
what wrinkly and unattractive messes they were. 
Bert tossed him two of the garments, Harriet an- 
other pair, and Lois commanded briefly, 4 ‘ Get into 
those. We Ve not got many minutes.” 

Pelham glanced at the sky. There were clouds 
at last, thick and black. Passing far overhead, 
they were just shutting out the westering sun. 
The water, as far as he could see, was a tossing 
waste of ink. 

The oilskins stuck together, but he pulled them 
apart, pushed his feet through the overalls, and 
buttoned their straps across his shoulders. He 
managed to wriggle himself into the jacket just as 
Bert, already in his oilskins, and still buttoning. 


24 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


took the wheel from Lois. She slipped so quickly 
into her suit that she was ready as soon as Har- 
riet had managed to adjust her own clumsy skirt 
and coat. 

“ There are sou ’westers ?” asked Lois of Bert. 
“Good. Harriet, take off that pretty hat. Pel- 
ham, see if you can’t find some black rubber hats 
there in the cabin.” 

With no thought of seasickness now, since he 
was too excited, Pelly rummaged in the stuffy 
place till in the half-darkness he came across the 
shiny hats. One by one he threw out four, and 
followed them out. 

“Aren’t we sights?” cried Harriet, as she but- 
toned the strap of her sou’wester under her chin. 

Sights they were. Yet the shapeless and wrin- 
kled oilskins, the black hats, had a businesslike 
effect that did not entirely disguise the trig fig- 
ures of the girls, nor spoil their fresh, youthful 
faces. Only Bert, scowling as he adjusted his 
hat, and looking forward nervously at the ap- 
proaching clouds, was in bad keeping with them. 

Pelham followed the man’s glance. There was 
now no distant shore; it had disappeared. The 
cloud was deep purple, and against it stood up 
the masts and sails of the little fleet of boats, 


THE SQUALL 25 

grouped motionless together, and waiting for the 
wind to rise. The sails were all reefed, and under 
them showed the yellow dots of figures in oil- 
skins. There was no distant thunder, no light- 
ing. And the very silence, in which the slap of 
waves against the Venture’s bow seemed 
strangely loud, impressed the boy deeply. He 
looked at the black water, and knew that he 
dreaded it. But the steady chugging of the little 
motor, expressive of its unresting power, reas- 
sured him. 

Then, without warning, there came a break in 
the engine’s regular beat, a stop, a start, a long 
slow wheeze, dying away. The churning of the 
propeller ceased. 

Bert snatched off the cover of the engine, and 
looked down at it. He turned wrathfully on Lois. 
4 4 What did you do to it?” 

4 4 Nothing,” she answered quietly. 

The man dropped on his knees, and began 
rapidly testing the parts of the little machine. 
The plugs, the wires, the valves, all were in or- 
der. He worked at the carburetor, suddenly 
stood upright, and fumbled at the tank under the 
counter. 4 4 Gasolene ! ” he cried, and plunged into 
the little cabin. 


26 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


In a moment lie emerged, with a face as black 
as the cloud above him, and cast on the water a 
square can that floated high. “ Empty !” 

Harriet and Pelham looked at each other in per- 
plexity. Lois turned coldly to the angry man. 
“ We have no more at all? Think !” 

“None at all,” he answered. 

“Have you an anchor?” 

“No. We used it as a mooring, and I — I buoyed 
it and left it.” The scowling man saw that in 
these two questions she had twice exposed his 
negligence. 

“Then we must sail,” she said. 

“Sail?” he cried. “In that squall?” 

“What would you do?” she asked him. 

“Drift.” 

“Drift?” she retorted. “And turn broadside, 
and perhaps capsize!” 

Bert rapidly cast off the sheet. “Then we can 
swing out the boom, and run before it.” He fum- 
bled with the lashings of the crutch. 

“Run?” she rejoined. In her turn she began 
to busy herself with the gaskets that tied the 
furled sail. “The wind will come from the head 
of the bay, and we couldn’t hope to escape that 
stony point to leeward.” 


27 


THE SQUALL 

Bert, lifting the boom out of the crutch, de- 
manded angrily, “You mean to sail against it?” 

“It ’s the only way,” she answered quietly. 
“We ’ve got to beat away from this position. 
Harriet, Pelham, help me to untie these gaskets. 
Bert, stand by the halliards.” 

There was another moment in which Pelham 
wondered if the man would obey. But Lois’s 
cool certainty, and the man’s own doubt of the 
danger in which they stood, greater, perhaps, 
than he realized, were too much for him. He 
went to the halliards and began to cast them off. 

While the man worked rapidly at his ropes, 
Harriet and Pelham eagerly assisted Lois in un- 
doing the sail from the canvas bands that held it. 
As it began to tumble from its tight furl, they 
helped to shake it out, until all its great breadth 
lay massed at their feet. 

“Beady, Bert?” asked Lois. “Now up with it 
till the first reef-points show.” 

As the man began to hoist the huge thing, Pel- 
ham, glancing nervously at the silent cloud, ever 
blacker and ever nearer, wondered how they could 
hope to sail under so much canvas ; but the gaff, 
the spar to which the head of the sail was at- 
tached, had hardly climbed six feet of the mast 


28 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


when Lois called, “Enough !” Bert stopped 
hoisting and made the ropes fast. 

The boy then saw that rows of cords, each cord 
perhaps eighteen inches long, were let into the 
sail at regular intervals, parallel with the bot- 
tom. He recognized the cords as the reef-points 
of which Lois had spoken. At either end each 
row ended in a stout eyelet; and Lois, snatching 
up a strong cord, began to work busily on the 
inner eyelet of the upper row. Bert, after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation, began folding the lower part of 
the sail along the boom, a work at which Pelham 
and Harriet began to help him. The three lower 
rows of reef-points were folded in, and Bert had 
already begun to tie the upper reef -points around 
the folded canvas, when Lois cried over her shoul- 
der : 

“Tie the leech-earing first! Can you manage 
it!” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

She beckoned him to her place. “Finish this,” 
she said. “Harriet, hold the sail as it is, but tie 
no more reef-points till I tell you. Pelham, get 
me a line about twenty feet long.” 

Pelham had seen ends of rope in the cabin, and 
at once dived into it. As, after hasty rummag- 


29 


THE SQUALL 

ing, he emerged with the line, and passed it 
quickly to Lois, he seized the chance to glance 
once more across the water in the direction of the 
storm. 

The group of yachts was hidden behind a sweep- 
ing wall of rain! One tiny sail he thought he 
saw, pressed over and staggering; but it disap- 
peared so quickly that he could not be sure. A 
grumble of thunder came to his ears ; he could not 
hear the wind which he knew was driving the 
advancing storm. Only the short chopping of 
the dying waves against the sides of the boat broke 
the quiet. To Pelham these unaccustomed sur- 
roundings were uncanny and alarming. 

Lois had knotted the end of the rope to the eye- 
let at the end of the row of reef-points. Then, 
leaning out beyond the stern, she tried to reach 
to the end of the boom, but it was too far for her. 
One glance at Pelham was enough for the boy. 
He took the end from her, squirmed out upon the 
boom, and reaching forward, passed the line 
through an iron eye-bolt. “ Shall I tie it?” he 
asked over his shoulder. 

“ Bring it back,” she answered. 

When again he was at her side he helped her 
pull the rope tight, knot it around the boom, and 


30 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


begin to wind it again toward the end, furling 
the sail before them as they went. At a word 
from Lois, Harriet and Bert began tying the reef- 
points. But Harriet spoke : 

“It’s coming!” 

In the thrill of his sister’s tones Pelham knew 
that she was calling on her courage. Instantly 
Lois gave the end of the rope to him. 

‘ ‘ Finish this, ’ ’ she said. “No matter what hap- 
pens, finish and tie!” 

He realized the importance of his task. If the 
wind should tear loose this furled leach, the flap- 
ping mass would make sailing very difficult. Be- 
hind him he heard the other three hastily tying 
the remaining reef-points. A longing to know 
how near the storm was made him ache to look 
back; he preferred to face the danger. But set- 
ting his teeth he wound the rope tightly for an- 
other yard, knotted it with a jerk, and furled far- 
ther. Then he felt the boom begin to swing away 
from him as a little wind pushed it slowly out. 
But Lois, seizing a rope that ran in and out 
through pulleys, pulled the boom in again, and 
took a turn of the rope around a cleat. 

“You have about ten seconds,” she said, still 
most quietly. 


THE SQUALL 31 

And Pelham, once more wriggling himself upon 
the boom, crawled out over the water. 

Lois spoke briskly. “That ’s the last reef- 
point. Now, Bert, get the sail up flat.” 

Pelham felt jerks upon the boom; he knew that 
the man, straining hard, was raising the sail as 
high as the reef-points would permit. Winding 
desperately, knowing that his rope was too short 
to stop for another knotting, Pelham passed it at 
length through the eye-holt once more, and made 
it fast with the two half-hitches which his wood- 
craft had taught him. Thus at work, lying flat 
on the boom, his arms stretched at full length, he 
was holding on only by the grip of his knees. 
“There!” he muttered grimly. 

“Make fast, Bert,” warned Lois. “Pelham — 
quick!” 

There was a moment in which the boy began to 
recover his balance in order to work back along 
the spar. What was that rushing sound? 

“Pelham!” shrieked Harriet, terrified. 

With a sudden roar of wind in his ears, Pel- 
ham clutched the boom. He felt himself swung 
sidewise, he knew the whole boat to be tilting, he 
felt a torrent of rain beating upon his back. Then 
the grip of his knees was torn loose; and as the 


32 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


water seemed suddenly to be boiling up at him, 
his whole body was swung about on the pivot of 
his hand-grip, and he plunged to his waist in foam. 
A sheet of water slapped across his eyes. Gasp- 
ing, bewildered, he was dragged slowly along. 
Then, as he cleared his vision, he saw a picture 
that he never forgot. 

The boat was laid over sharply, and the belly- 
ing sail was dipping almost in the water. The 
man, Bert, had been thrown in a heap at the sud- 
den careening, and lay where a cascade of green 
water poured in upon him over the top of the 
washboard. Harriet, her agonized gaze upon her 
brother, was desperately bracing herself from be- 
ing thrown to leeward. As Pelham wildly looked 
for any hope for her, or for them all, he saw 
Lois standing immovable at the wheel. 

He knew that she was straining against the 
storm. With knee and hand she held the wheel; 
her other hand was gripping the sheet that passed 
around its cleat and outward to the boom. She 
glanced up at the sail, then down to the boy that 
was dragging in the water. And as her undaunted 
eye met his, Pelham knew that with every nerve 
of her rigid body she was working to save them 
all. 


CHAPTER III 


A RESCUE 

W ITH an understanding which he could not 
afterward explain, Pelham saw what Lois 
was doing. The wind had broken upon the boat 
as it was motionless ; if it were turned broadside, 
capsizing would be immediate. With the sail 
trimmed almost flat, Lois was holding the heavy- 
cat-boat, — holding it in spite of the sharp list, in 
spite of the water pouring in — till its dead mass 
should gather headway. And slowly the Venture 
was responding. The strain upon Pelham’s arms 
increased; the boat no longer pounded up and 
down, but surging slowly forward, threw a wave 
of spray clear across her deck; then slowly her 
bow began to swing nearer to the wind. Bert 
scrambled up, and though Pelham could not hear 
Lois’s voice, he knew that she called the man. 
Together they turned the wheel a little way. The 
Venture, as if alive again, righted, and the sail 
began to flap. Then the man’s long arm was 
reached to the boy over the quarter, and in a mo- 
ment Pelham was dragged into the boat. 

33 


34 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


One glance of the deepest relief passed from 
Harriet’s eye to his. Then he realized that he 
was standing ankle deep in water, that the dan- 
ger was not yet over, and that much remained to 
be done. He looked about for anything to bail 
with. 

But Lois spoke sharply. “ Quick, Bert, put 
down the center-board before I let her fall off. 
Then get out the pump. Pelham, help me here.” 

Bert thrust the center-board to its full depth, 
Pelham helped Lois to swing the wheel a little 
way, and as she called, “Hold her there!” he felt 
the boat tilting again. Once more she bent alarm- 
ingly to the wind, and he saw Harriet brace her- 
self. But Lois, apparently quite satisfied, smiled 
confidently at her, Harriet smiled faintly in re- 
turn, and the boy realized that things were going 
better. The boat was driving forward. Though 
the Venture heeled till the water boiled along her 
side, the wash-board now kept it from the cock- 
pit, and the steady spurting of Bert’s pump be- 
gan to take toll of the water that swashed around 
their feet. Why, this was sailing ! 

Sailing indeed ! The wind and rain had 
beaten flat the earlier waves, and the heavy boat 
was rushing across a sea as level as a floor. Its 


A RESCUE 


35 


whole slaty surface was leaping in little splashes 
caused by the heavy rain, through which one could 
not see for fifty yards. The direction of the shore 
Pelham could not guess. Lois, with a little frown, 
was peering ahead. 4 ‘ Help me,” she said, “to 
watch for a spar-buoy.” He strained his eyes 
through the rain, telling himself that Lois’s 
earlier questions might now stand them in good 
stead. 

Bert’s steady pumping ceased. He replaced 
the floor-boards that he had lifted, coiled the 
halliards, closed the tiny cabin, and took his place 
at the upper side of the boat beside the anxious 
Harriet. Together all of them were looking for 
a buoy which Pelham knew they might pass un- 
seen in the storm. But suddenly — there! And 
he stretched out his arm toward the sloping spar 
that appeared faintly on their lee bow. 

“About!” cried Lois. “Pull the wheel over!” 

Together they spun it, she with one hand still 
upon the sheet. The bow swung, the mast came 
upright, there was a heavy flapping of the sail. 
Then with a rush the boom came over, the sheet 
stopped it with a jerk, the boat heeled on the other 
tack, and Harriet and Bert came scrambling to 
the upper side. 


36 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“Let me hold that rope for you,” begged Pel- 
ham. 

Lois shook her head. “ There is no strain. I 
am merely ready to ease it.” And he saw that 
the sheet was lightly belayed, and was held by be- 
ing caught upon itself in such a way that a quick 
pull would loosen it in any emergency. 

Again the boat was driving into the rain — 
blindly, the boy thought. The water, still spurt- 
ing myriads of little jets, was now rising to an 
angry chop, and the Venture’s bow suddenly 
threw a broad sheet of spray across them all. 
Pelham looked at Harriet, and she smiled at him 
bravely. Then his mind took up the problem of 
their course. As he remembered, to the right, 
as they lay becalmed, had been a cove into which 
they must have sailed, and out of which they now 
were working. Lois’s fresh knowledge of the 
buoys doubtless was helping her. Ahead, he re- 
membered, had been the lighthouse marking the 
entrance of their harbor ; he remembered also, he 
thought, a nearer point of land, marked with 
jagged rocks, on which it would be very interest- 
ing to drive. They must escape it, round it, and 
make the harbor. And he passed minutes, and 
then more minutes, wondering whether Lois could 


A RESCUE 


37 


make it, why Bert did not take the wheel (to be 
sure, the man did not seem anxious to), where 
were the yachts they had seen, and how high these 
waves would finally pile up. The Venture was 
pitching heavily, and throwing water at every 
plunge. But her speed was undeniable. 

Lois ’s face was anxious now. She looked at the 
sheet as if desirous of slacking it, and Pelham 
feared that that work would he difficult. With 
knitted brow she looked ahead — then suddenly 
her face cleared. Pelham saw now another spar- 
buoy ; they drove by it within a dozen feet, but did 
not alter their course. Looking back, in a minute 
the buoy was out of sight behind the rain. Ahead 
he saw nothing hut the waves leaping ever 
higher, and angrily breaking along crests of con- 
siderable width. Then he remembered that the 
boat had been designed for just such weather as 
this, and felt a little better. 

Suddenly Bert pointed and shouted. Pelham 
saw nothing, hut at once he felt Lois respond with 
a slight pull at the wheel. As he helped her, 
studying her face to see if they were to turn, she 
shook her head, intently looking forward. Then 
he too saw — two misty sails, a wet deck, a sharp 
bow shearing the water, wide-flung spray, figures 


38 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


in yellow. The Venture was driving straight at 
the yacht — would they not strike amidships ? 
Lois pulled again, the cat responded with a little 
yaw, and he saw the stranger drive past, thirty 
feet clear between her and the Venture’s bow. 
Some one in the other boat waved an arm, he 
heard a halloo, and the two boats were borne 
apart. As the stranger melted into the rain, 
Pelham felt lifted and confident. This was — 
living ! 

“Beady about !” cried Lois. He looked at her 
inquiringly. She pushed the wheel toward him, 
he pulled until she checked him, and the heavy 
Venture , turning finely, rose, heeled, and drove 
after the stranger into the mist. Delighted with 
the solid sureness of the action, Pelham smiled at 
his companion. In return she tossed her head. 

“They showed me my course ,’ 9 she cried. 
“We can make the harbor on this tack.” 

4 4 Can you keep them in sight ? ” he called, won- 
dering how else she could find her way. But the 
need did not seem to occur to her, for, 4 4 Probably 
not,” she answered coolly. 

As they rushed on their course, Pelham thought 
that once or twice, in thinner mists, he could see 
the stranger; but each time she was blotted out. 


A RESCUE 39 

Then from down the wind he heard a steady 
muffled pounding. What was it! 

‘ ‘ Surf , 9 ’ explained Lois, indifferently. 

So quickly a surf in this shallow bay! They 
were then near the entrance of their harbor! 
Another buoy passed them to leeward, and Lois 
smiled. “We shall soon be under the land.” 
But there arose near them — yet he could not say 
from where — a loud ripping, tearing, cracking, 
snapping ; and out of the mist loomed, close ahead, 
the shape of the yacht which had passed them. 
Already she had worked nearer to the wind : thus 
much advantage had she gained from her racing 
model. But now she was losing speed. Her split 
jib was flapping itself to tatters, and at her bow 
a slender figure in oilskins was working energet- 
ically at the ruined sail, trying to haul it down. 
Then, as with a crash the tossing yacht smashed 
into a big wave, the thrashing pulley-block struck 
the worker heavily between the eyes. Reeling, he 
groped vainly for the stay, fell in the smother of 
foam at his feet, and, like a log, rolled slowly over- 
board. 

Pelham heard Lois scream as she spun the 
wheel. The sudden slackening of pressure at once 
brought the Venture nearer into the wind, and the 


40 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


sail flapped overhead, while the speed diminished. 
But the other yacht drove on, its mainsail hiding 
the fall of the boatman from the people in her cock- 
pit. Leaving the wheel, Lois stepped upon the 
starboard seat, ready, Pelham saw, to spring over- 
board at the least sign of the castaway. Seeing 
that the boat was gaining an even keel, with her 
head pointing into the wind, Pelham also aban- 
doned the wheel and seized Lois’s arm. With her 
eyes still on the water, she tried to shake him oft, 
but in spite of her he drew her down. 

“You never can swim in those skirts,” he said. 
“Let me do it.” And he gave her to Harriet’s 
clasp. Bert had sprung to the wheel, but left it 
loosely responsive to the idle rudder, knowing that 
until the boat had entirely lost headway she would 
be safe. Thus slowly losing her momentum, the 
Venture was nevertheless sure to approach the 
spot where the lost boatman fell. 

As Pelham looked into the dull green waves so 
angrily leaping before him, he felt a mean unwill- 
ingness to brave them. Besides his clothes he 
wore the heavy clogging oilskins ; on his feet were 
stiff shoes. He knew he had no time to manage 
either buttons or laces. Could he swim in that 
sea? He dreaded the effort. 


A RESCUE 


41 


But even before he fully realized that he had 
seen, a dozen feet away, a black hat slowly rising 
to the surface, Pelham felt himself leaping from 
the gunwale. To grope and seize a limp arm, to 
drag the head above water, to strike out for the 
cat-boat, and to give the light figure to the two 
eager girls, needed but half a minute. Bert threw 
the wheel over, the Venture heeled, and Pelham 
scrambled over the washboard almost as soon as 
the girls had dragged in their burden. 

“I have done it !” thought the boy, surprised al- 
most as much as he was thankful. 

Shaking the water from his clothes with one con- 
vulsive wriggle, he dropped on his knees beside 
the rescued stranger, in order to help Lois turn 
the body over. It was the first step, he knew, in 
reviving the drowned: to empty the water from 
the lungs. But Harriet’s hand on his shoulder 
stopped him. 

“ Leave him on his back,” she said. “He was 
stunned. He can’t have breathed the water.” 

As they paused, irresolute, Pelham saw that the 
stranger was a boy of about his own age, tanned 
like an Indian, dark of hair, keen of feature, 
marked on the forehead with a darkening bruise. 
The throat was thin, the whole body wiry and 


42 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


slender. The shirt revealed by the open oilskin 
jacket was dark and coarse, and Pelham knew the 
lad to be a sailor on the little yacht. While he was 
thus thinking, the boy opened his eyes, and looked 
at the three bending over him. 

For a moment he seemed to wonder vaguely. 
Then in a flash his eyes opened wider still, one 
hand went to his forehead, and with the other he 
tried to raise himself. “You — ” he gasped. 

Lois put a firm hand on his shoulder. “We 
picked you up. Lie still !” she said command- 
ingly. 

His bewildered gaze resting upon her, he al- 
lowed himself to be pressed back. There came a 
faint hail across the water. “Is he — all right f” 

The occupants of the racer had discovered the 
loss of their helper, though so quickly had the 
rescue taken place that indeed they had scarcely 
missed him before they saw him hauled aboard the 
cat-boat. Over the Venture’s quarter Pelham 
saw the little yacht thrashing in the waves, handi- 
capped by the loss of her jib, but able to make 
fair headway. She held a bearded man, and a 
boy whose round face, with features apparently 
formed for jollity, was now anxiously awaiting the 
replay to the hail. Pelham recognized Mr. Wins- 



Pelham felt himself leaping from the gunwale 






i 

* 































































































































































• • 




A RESCUE 


45 


low and his son Howard, and shouted “All right. 
We ’ll bring him in.” Then he turned to the 
boy. 

Bert was leaning over him. “How are you, 
Neil?” 

The bewildered look was giving place to one of 
comprehension. “Oh, it’s you, Bert. I didn’t 
know where I was. I guess I hit my head.” 

“Guess you did. Better?” 

Slowly the lad raised himself, and with Pel- 
ham’s help moved to the leeward seat. He 
dropped his head into his hands. “Better,” he 
answered slowly. “But my head splits!” 

“That ’s nothing to what you might have got,” 
said Bert. “And see, the storm ’s breaking.” 

There had come a sudden slackening of the 
rain. The view across the water cleared, and Pel- 
ham saw, to windward, three staggering yachts, a 
faint line of trees, and the dim shape of the light- 
house. The Venture was at the harbor entrance, 
and to Pelham’s relief he saw that she was al- 
ready passing under the lee of the land. The 
wind was less, the waves quieter. A hundred 
yards ahead of them the three yachts, as if at a 
command, spun on another tack. His eye fol- 
lowed the direction which they took, and as the 


46 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


rain seemed to rise, like a curtain from the scene, 
he saw the whole of the harbor. 

To the left, following the line of the land, a 
broad passage led onward toward a distant shore 
that closed it, where he saw scattered houses. 
Across the middle of the view stretched a long 
sandy spit — an island? — on which grew low groups 
of trees. At its farther end was another pass- 
age, ending in rising hills, the roofs of houses 
among trees, and above them scattered windmills 
spotted against the sky. The clouds were al- 
ready breaking over them, and a long shaft of 
light shot slanting from the west. Bert waved his 
hand toward the point of windmills. 

4 4 That ’s Colton. In races we sail all round 
that island. And six storms can’t hurt us now.” 
He whistled in relief, and holding the wheel with 
his knee, began stripping off his oilskins. Then 
he became jocular, slapped Neil on the shoulder, 
and though the wind was still strong began to talk 
of shaking out the reef. 

But the others were very quiet. Pelham sat 
down beside Harriet, and found her hand come 
stealing into his. Neil remained with his head 
in his hands ; Lois was soberly watching the clear- 
ing of the storm. Pelham himself felt very sober; 


A RESCUE 


47 


he knew, as he looked back, that if he had not been 
so busy he would have been frightened out of his 
wits. Realizing how wet he was, he pulled off his 
oilskins just as the sun came brightly out. 

As its warmth struck into him, and he felt that, 
in spite of the angry swell that drove inward from 
the bay, they were now safe, his heart kindled to- 
ward the beauty of the scene. The blue and white 
of wave and whitecap, the cloud-shadows racing 
across the green land ahead, the broken storm- 
cloud showing fleecy white and darkest gray, with 
every contrast sharp in the clear air — these made 
a deep impression on him. It all seemed, although 
the landscape was so unfamiliar, to his warm 
heart to speak of home. He was dwelling on it 
gratefully, when Lois sharply spoke. 

‘ 4 What does that spindle mean, dead ahead V 9 

Not far from their bow, and rising apparently 
from the water, was a stiff stake with a little dead 
fir-tree tied to its top. The boy Neil raised his 
head quickly, and glanced forward at it. Then he 
leaped to the wheel. 

4 ‘ Come about, Bert ! ’ ’ he cried. 6 1 Hon ’t you see 
Hen and Chickens V 9 

Mumbling an excuse, Bert abandoned the wheel 
to him, and Neil threw the boat on the other tack. 


48 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


As she filled away, leaving the stake on the quar- 
ter, Pelham wondered if there were danger there. 
Then over the apparently innocent spot the water 
suddenly broke angrily. The subsiding waves 
showed a rounded rock, black and dripping ; then 
to right and left, nearer and farther, sharp threat- 
ening points showed themselves, only to disap- 
pear again. 

“Hen and Chickens V 9 he exclaimed. “A nice 
brood !” 

Neil smiled faintly. “They ’re mostly covered 
at this tide, but they show clearly at half water. 
Nasty things to run on.” 

He tacked across the lessening rollers toward 
the wooded point that formed the outer barrier 
of the harbor ; then he turned the boat again, and 
followed through a winding channel after the 
racers, the first of which seemed already to be 
swinging to its anchorage. Behind came the rest 
of the little fleet, last of all the one that had lost 
its jib. Into the harbor they all came, jockeyed to 
their moorings, and dropped their sails. 

In the sheltered harbor, behind the point and 
the island, the waves were peaceful, the wind was 
gentle, the brilliant summer evening had begun. 
Neil helped Bert to bring out the suitcases, stow 


A RESCUE 49 

the oilskins, and haul the tender to the quarter 
for the row to shore. 

“I ’ll stay to shake out the reef and dry the 
sail,” he said, as Bert stepped into the row-boat. 

“But you ’re dripping wet,” cried Pelham. 
“And what about your headache?” 

The boy smiled. “It ’s gone — But you are 
also dripping wet. You went overboard for me?” 

“I had to do it,” laughed Pelham, “to keep 
Miss Weatherbee from going.” 

Neil turned toward Lois, but the girl smiled 
away his offered thanks. Then he stretched his 
hand toward Pelham, and his firm grip expressed 
his gratitude. 


CHAPTEE IV 


NEIL — AND BERT 

N OT seasick f” inquired Howard with a 
twinkle of his eye. 

Pelham had been lying on the counter of the 
Winslows ’ Hera , the fifteen-footer which Howard 
called his, just as Euth called the Rhoda hers. 
The country boy was finding an undreamed-of 
pleasure in the swift motion, the gentle wind, the 
sparkling, shifting waters, and the beauty of the 
shore and sky. And he was thinking. For the un- 
forgettable experience of the escape in the storm 
had brought home to Pelham the new knowledge 
of a fascinating art. He had thought that sail- 
ing was not only ancient but antiquated; it had 
been “put out of business’ ’ by the gasoline en- 
gine. But now he was filled with surprise and 
admiration of the skill by w T hich, with the sim- 
plest of mechanisms — three spars, a sail, and a 
rudder — a girl had made the furious wind do her 
bidding. He was so absorbed that Howard had 
to repeat his question. 

“ Seasick V 9 returned Pelham. “Don’t you 
50 


NEIL— AND BERT 


51 


think that if ever I could be sick, it would have 
been yesterday? I ’ll never worry about that 
again . 9 9 

“Longing for baseball?” pursued Howard. 

Pelham grunted. “Harriet has been putting 
you up to this. If you really want to know, How- 
ard, I ’m almost satisfied.” 

“Almost?” Howard looked interested; and Neil, 
who had settled himself on the windward side of 
the mast, looked back for an instant. 

“I want to learn to sail,” explained Pelham. 
“I ’d give a year’s allowance to be able to do what 
Lois did yesterday. If you let me get home with- 
out being able to handle a boat, I ’ll never forgive 
you. ’ ’ 

“Come down in here instantly! ” cried Howard. 

He put his friend beside him, and began that 
long and complicated explanation which is sup- 
posed to be necessary for the instruction of every 
landlubber. How if the wind is so, and you want 
to go so, the sail must be so, and the tiller so. 
Generally speaking, the jib on a fifteen-footer took 
care of itself; the eye must watch the mainsail. 
In order to go to windward the boat must tack, or 
zig-zag ; if the wind is on the quarter the program 
was different, and when running free — 


52 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“ Howard,” cried Pelham, quite bewildered, 
“put the tiller in my hand and tell me how to 
manage the sheet as we are sailing now. The 
rest we can add on as we need to.” 

He had hit on the right way to learn. His own 
mechanical mind was keen enough to understand 
the action and reaction of the wind, the sail, and 
the rudder; but more than that, in spite of Lois’s 
jokes at him, the boy had enough imagination to 
state and solve the simpler problems of this en- 
tirely new art. It pleased him, moreover, to have 
Howard applaud him, and to have Neil, from time 
to time, look at him with approval. By the time 
they reached the float he had gained a pretty good 
opinion of himself. Together they walked to the 
boathouse at the water’s edge, leaving the Hera 
tied to the float. 

“I ’ve got this hour of tutoring,” said Howard. 
“Will you come up to the house with me, or see 
if you can find the girls ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ If the wind were n ’t dying I ’d go out with 
Neil, ’ ’ Pelham answered. ‘ ‘ Perhaps if I stay here 
it will spring up again.” 

Howard departed, shaking his head. Pelham 
saw that Neil had a look of still greater certainty. 


NEIL— AND BERT 53 

“What makes you think there ’ll be no wind?” he 
demanded. 

Neil replied by another question. “You ’re 
from inland?” 

“From the center of the State,” replied Pel- 
ham. 

Neil smiled. “I ’ve noticed that when people’s 
work, or their play, does n’t depend on the wind, 
they never get in the habit of noticing it. Now 
you can generally, I suppose, give a pretty good 
guess as to whether it will rain — ” 

“I didn’t yesterday,” admitted Pelham. 

“We all make mistakes sometimes,” said Neil. 
“Just the same, I don’t suppose that you, or any 
boy in your town, ever really notices whether there 
is a wind or not, unless there ’s a gale or a dead 
calm. And as for predicting whether there will 
be much wind and from what direction — why, 
I don’t imagine you ever think of it.” 

“It ’s true,” admitted Pelham. “None of us 
do.” 

“But it ’s our business, down here,” went on 
Neil. “Or it ’s our pleasure, if we ’re from the 
city. There isn’t one of us that doesn’t, from 
hour to hour, know just what the wind is doing, 


54 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


and make up our minds what it will be doing an 
hour hence. Now I ’m pretty safe in saying 
there ’ll be only light flaws, and not many of them, 
till nearly four this afternoon, after which there ’ll 
be good sailing.” 

“ Every man to his trade,” said Pelham. 
4 ‘ Don’t you think I made a pretty good beginning 
at picking up yours?” 

Neil, with a shrewd glance at him, hesitated. 

4 ‘Oh,” said Pelham, mortified, “ don’t be afraid 
to speak the truth.” 

Neil’s look was perfectly straightforward. 
“ Boatmen are expected to compliment,” he said 
frankly. “If I weren’t so much obliged to you, 
I ’d give you a little flattery.” 

Pelham sat himself down at the end of the pier, 
where in the soft dry sand his feet nearly sank to 
his ankles. The open boathouse seemed empty; 
its shadow on him was cool, and the shimmering 
harbor was delightful to contemplate. “If I think 
too well of myself I won’t improve,” he said. 
“Tell me the truth.” 

Neil squatted near him. His keen features were 
friendly and confidential. “Sailing,” he began, 
“isn’t to be picked up in a few minutes. You 
were very quick at the groundwork of it, but you 


NEIL— AND BERT 


55 


mustn’t suppose that there isn’t a fine art to it 
that some of the city folks never dream of. And 
it ’s only to he learned in the boat itself, by con- 
tinual handling of the tiller and watching of the 
sail. I ’d like to teach you, if we could find the 
time. Now I noticed that you were out early this 
morning.’ ’ 

“ I always am, at home,” replied Pelham. 
“I can’t understand how the folks down here 
sleep till just in time for eight o’clock break- 
fast.” 

“Any morning, every morning, if you wish,” 
offered Neil eagerly, “I ’ll sail with you from 
seven to eight. The wind is usually good. And 
that means that I come only an hour early. ’ ’ 

“Are you up so soon?” asked Pelham. 

Neil laughed. “I ’m always out at sunrise, for 
clamming, or gardening, and my study.” 

Pelham thought of Howard and his tutoring. 
“Have you conditions to make up?” 

“No,” said Neil. “I ’m a year ahead of my 
age. But I want to get on faster ; I intend to try 
for the next Annapolis appointment. And then 
outside of the regular work there are all sorts of 
things that school does n ’t teach that I ’m crazy 
to learn. Motors, for instance.” 


56 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


Pelham’s eyes brightened at this similar taste. 
“You mean marine engines!” 

“Not entirely,” answered Neil. “Of course I 
think a fellow can’t be a good boatman, for these 
city people here, unless he can run any kind of 
motor they ’re likely to use in their boats. So I 
study them. But I like the automobile motors es- 
pecially.” He stepped inside the boat-house, and 
coming out, put into Pelham’s hand a massive vol- 
ume on “The Gas Engine.” 

“It ’s Mr. Winslow’s,” he explained. 

“I ’ve wrestled with that myself,” said Pelham, 
noting with respect that Neil’s bookmark was near 
the end of the book. “Of course all this study 
means money to you some day.” 

“Of course,” agreed Neil, innocently. 

The answer brought Pelham where he expected. 

“The time before eight o’clock is your own. 
And if you take it away from your studies you 
must let me pay you for it. ’ ’ 

“Never!” said Neil instantly. 

The two boys looked steadily at each other. 
Neil’s jaw was set, and his eye was very resolute. 
Pelham thought it wise to change the subject. 
“What ’s that other book under your arm!” 

Neil produced it. “About model aeroplanes. 


NEIL— AND BERT 57 

But it ’s not practical. It does n’t teach me how 
to make a machine that will fly.” 

‘ ‘ I know the book, ’ ’ cried Pelham. ‘ 4 Either the 
writer never made an aeroplane in his life, or he 
can’t explain himself. The first two I made, try- 
ing to follow this fellow’s plans, were perfect fail- 
ures. It wasn’t till I got some ideas from my 
brother Bob that I made one that would stay up.” 

“Oh, wait!” cried Neil. Again he darted into 
the boathouse, to return with a light framework in 
his hand. “What ’s wrong with this?” 

Pelham took the little aeroplane in his hand. 
“It ’s beautifully made, ’ ’ he said. 1 ‘ But the front 
is too heavy ; you must get along without all those 
braces. I see you ’ve used that long strut the au- 
thor talks of. Nobody uses them now. If you 
took it off, and got rid of those two cross-bars, for- 
ward, the thing would have a chance of flying. ’ ’ 
“Are the propellors good?” asked Neil. 

Pelham examined them, critically. “They ’re 
well whittled, but not well hung. There ’s fric- 
tion there, in the bearing. Now if you should get 
a little piece of brass tubing — ” 

Their talk turned to the details of the little ma- 
chine, which they discussed with intensest inter- 
est. “If I had only brought mine!” wished Pel- 


58 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

ham. “But look here,” and he smoothed out the 
sand for a drawing table. “I made it this way.” 
He drew and explained; Neil queried and sug- 
gested. When a good working plan had finally 
been completed, Pelham said, “I 11 help you make 
one. ’ * 

“Then,” stipulated Neil promptly, “you must 
let me teach you sailing. ’ 9 

And so it was agreed. 

‘ ‘ But how will you get time to make the parts ? ’ ’ 
asked Pelham. “You have a workshop at home ? 9 9 

Neil shook his head. “I have the bench here, 
tools, and acres of time.” 

“The Winslows don’t keep you busy?” Pelham 
asked. 

“When we ’re busy we ’re very busy,” replied 
Neil. “If the racing boats have to be hauled out 
and leaded, if we ’re preparing for a cruise, and 
of course if we ’re on the water, then our hands 
are full. But take the long middle of a day with- 
out wind, like this ; or take a day when the owners 
go off alone and leave us ashore — why, we make 
the place neat, do what mending or splicing or 
preparing we can, and then loaf, and loaf, till 
something turns up. I don’t know anything more 
likely to make a man lazy.” 


NEIL— AND BERT 


59 


‘ i That ’s why you study and make aeroplanes ?” 
inquired Pelham. 

Neil smiled assent. “I can’t afford to become 
a mere longshore loafer.” 

There came a hail from the hillside above. 
“ Pelham, we ’re going out fishing with the Bus- 
sells in their motor-boat. Come up and get 
ready.” 

“You see,” said Neil, as Pelham sprang up, 
“you may be gone for the rest of the day. But 
I’ll begin on those parts for the new machine.” 

Yet when Pelham had gone Neil sat still for a 
while, planning. He did not rouse himself till 
he heard a step at the boathouse door, and heard 
a voice say, “Longshore loafer!” 

He looked up. Bert stood in the doorway. 
“Oh,” said Neil, “you were listening.” 

“What a Sunday school scholar you are!” 
sneered Bert. “You and your books! Why 
are n’t you satisfied with things as you find them, 
same as the rest of us? I ’ll tell the other boat- 
men what you think of them.” 

Neil was very quiet. “I got some of the ideas 
from them,” he said. “They ’d study too, if they 
were as young as I. ” 

“What are you studying about motors for?” 


60 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

demanded Bert. “Are yon looking for my 
job?” 

There had come a new note into the chauffeur’s 
voice, the little thrill of growing anger. Neil’s 
quick glance at Bert’s face saw his jealousy and 
suspicion. He sensed the danger, and tried to 
avert it. “No,” he answered. “I am satisfied 
with my pay.” And thus striking upon one of 
Bert’s grievances, Neil for a while succeeded. 

“You ’d better be satisfied! ” cried Bert. “A 
boy like you gets better paid than I do, and as for 
the men — a set of old sea-clams with a hundred 
dollars a month ! I suppose they think they earn 
it.” 

“Perhaps much of the time,” admitted Neil, 
relieved, “they don’t.” Yet he could not forbear 
saying a word in favor of his chosen work. ‘ ‘ But 
think of their responsibility. The lives of a whole 
boat-load of people may depend on a boatman’s 
doing the right thing in a pinch. ’ ’ 

Bert sneered. “Who got pinched yesterday?” 

With a grimace, Neil put his hand to his bruised 
forehead. “I did. But I got hurt in trying to 
do a dangerous bit of work that the others left 
alone. They came in with their jib still flapping. 
On the whole, the boatmen earn their money. ’ ’ 


NEIL— AND BERT 


61 


“It ’s just a fancy price, ” insisted Bert. “Not 
one of you has put in his time studying for his 
job as I have done.” 

“You ’ve spent six months in a chauffeur’s 
school,” returned Neil. “We spend our lives at 
ours. I went out scalloping every day that I could 
spare from school, last winter. Do you know what 
that means, out in the bay in a twelve-foot cat- 
boat, managing the dredge in winter weather?” 
As he remembered the many times when he had 
stood in danger of his life, Neil warmed thoroughly 
to the argument. 

“Aw,” answered Bert, contemptuously, “any 
one could do your work. ’ 9 

Neil’s eye flashed as he snapped his answer. 
“Many a man that thinks he can sail can’t man- 
age a boat in a Buzzards Bay squall.” 

He spoke with an impulse of resentment which 
immediately he regretted. For Bert’s face dark- 
ened. ‘ ‘ I could have managed that boat, ’ ’ he cried 
angrily ; ‘ ‘ that stuck-up girl, she butted in. What 
do you know about it? You were n’t there.” 

Neil remembered what he had seen : Bert steer- 
ing straight for Hen and Chickens. But he tried 
to soothe. “No, of course I wasn’t there.” 

But Bert was not to be appeased. Neil had un- 


62 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


wittingly probed the open wound to the man’s van- 
ity. His forgetfulness in leaving the gasolene, his 
carelessness in leaving the anchor, his inability 
to manage the Venture — the talk was all over 
town. The Winslow servants, listening in the 
pantry, had caught the story, they had twitted 
him with it, and had spread it from house to house. 
At the post-office that morning the other chauf- 
feurs had “jollied” him; on the beach the boat- 
men (a race of men whom Bert did not under- 
stand) had carefully avoided the subject. Both 
the jokes and the silence had cut him deep, but 
that was not all. His employer’s few stern words 
cut deeper. Mr. Winslow had severely blamed 
himself, and had apologized to his visitors, for 
sending with the motor-boat a man unable to meet 
all emergencies. He had also spoken very plainly 
to the man. All this was fresh in Bert’s mind 
when the boy threw the taunt in his face. 

He could not retort upon the maids nor on his 
fellow workmen. But all his jealousy of the boy 
flamed afresh. “You ’re swiping for my job !” he 
cried. 

“Don’t be afraid,” answered Neil scornfully. 
“I don’t intend to be nothing but a chauffeur.” 

The man raised his threatening fists. Neil, 


NEIL— AND BERT 


63 


springing back, stretched out his hand toward a 
boathook that leaned against the door. But he 
did not seize it, for Bert instantly paused. 

“You ’d use that on me?” he demanded. 

“To keep you off,” replied the boy. “Why 
should I let you hammer me ? ’ 9 

Bert swallowed down his wrath. He saw that 
the boy was not afraid, and he himself realized 
what might happen if his attempt to bully were 
interrupted by his employer. Yet he needed some 
outlet to his exasperation. Neil’s aeroplane lay 
near him, and with a single step the chauffeur 
crushed it. 

“Oh, I beg your pardon ,’ 9 he mocked, as he 
turned away. 


CHAPTER V 

A RICH MAN’S SON 

H ARRIET was holding the wheel of the Ven- 
ture. Yesterday she had been allowed to 
sail the Rhoda , and had done so well that now, on 
a trip across the bay to Marlow, where the im- 
portant races were sailed, she had been promoted 
to the dignity of managing the big cat-boat. The 
wind was moderate, Rnth sat at her elbow and 
coached her, the others kindly paid no attention, 
and so Harriet had attained a feeling of reason- 
able confidence. And yet she knew, as she looked 
at the harbor ahead, and its boats whether quiet 
or in motion, that her heart would presently be 
fluttering when she tried to navigate there. 

The party intended merely to sail into the har- 
bor and sail out again. There were six in the 
boat, the two Winslows, their three visitors, and 
Neil as boatman. Dick, a heavy, thorough, care- 
ful man, was the Winslow’s chief boatman; but 
this was his day off, and Neil was present in his 
place. Before he had been allowed to go Mrs. 
Winslow had appealed for her husband’s decision. 

64 


A RICH MAN’S SON 65 

Was not Neil too young for the responsibility? 

“Why?” asked Mr. Winslow. 

“Neil is no more than a boy,” his wife ex- 
plained, “and you know what the boatmen are 
saying about this being a summer for storms.” 

Mr. Winslow understood very well. Since the 
first of the season, when a fierce squall had spoiled 
the first race for the Eagle, the boatmen had given 
much credence to a weather-prophet who lived 
down Quisset way, and who reasoned from cer- 
tain infallible signs that during the summer there 
were to come four storms, each one worse than 
the last. Three unusual squalls had in fact swept 
upon the bay, and the boatmen were sure that a 
fourth was to come before Labor Day. Mrs. Win- 
slow herself felt a mother’s nervous dread that a 
final storm might bring disaster to her children. 

On the other hand her husband was not at all 
afraid of his children’s ability to take care of them- 
selves, if only reasonable forethought were taken. 
He pointed out to his wife that the Venture was 
very steady, that she had plenty of gasolene, and 
moreover that she had her anchor on board. 
“Few sports,” he reminded his wife, “will de- 
velop a child’s self-reliance as does yachting. 
And if Dick has a fault, it is that he is so cautious 


66 


THE HOLDEN EAGLE 


that he doesn’t let the youngsters do enough for 
themselves. Neil’s judgment is good; they are 
safe with him.” 

So Neil, who was Howard’s boatman as Dick was 
Ruth’s, went with the party, sat a little apart, 
did not speak unless spoken to, and yet was em- 
powered, as if he were a grown man, to take com- 
mand of the boat in any difficulty. Harriet really 
wished it were he that was coaching her rather 
than Ruth, whose directions were not always clear. 
For though Ruth was an excellent sailor, she was 
a little too likely to give her instructions hurriedly, 
and in words that Harriet did not understand. 

So far, Harriet had learned the meaning of lee- 
ward and windward , starboard and port , “keep 
her up, ” “ let her fall off, ’ ’ and ‘ i bring her about. ’ ’ 
She also knew what luffing was. To be sure, she 
always had to pause before executing a command, 
first in order to be sure that she understood it, and 
next to slowly and carefully put her actions in the 
proper order. Ruth was a little inclined to laugh 
at her deliberation ; but Howard bluntly corrected 
his sister. 

“Harriet does everything right, even if she ’s 
slow. That ’s better than doing wrong quickly.” 

The trip across the bay had been simple enough, 


A EICH MAN'S SON 


67 


with square miles of room in which to make harm- 
less mistakes. But now, as the harbor ap- 
proached, Harriet began to dread making a mis- 
take which would bring about a collision. She 
therefore offered the wheel to Euth, but the com- 
pany united in telling her to keep her place. 

“You 've got to learn sometime," said Howard. 
“Stick to it." 

So Harriet took fresh confidence, and remained 
at the helm. 

A fifteen-footer came swiftly toward them. It 
was much the same model, Harriet thought, as 
Euth's Rhoda. In a few moments she learned 
that she was right. The boat passed within thirty 
feet, its owner paying no attention to the occu- 
pants of the Venture . 

“Isn't that like Fred Barnes?" asked Howard 
impatiently. ‘ 1 He looked us all over until he came 
near, and then he passed as if he 'd never seen 
me before. Why, I Ve licked him in a dozen 
races I" 

Euth laughed slyly. “He 's licked you in a 
dozen, too." 

“Certainly," admitted Howard. “He licked 
me only the other day. And for that very reason 
I would take pains to how when we met." 


68 


THE HOLDEN EAGLE 


“Oh,” said Harriet, who recognized the name. 
“Fred Barnes is the one who is tied with yon and 
Ruth for the Golden Eagle.” 

Howard affected a comic grumble. “He won 
the first year, I the second. Ruth was second each 
year, but that did n’t count. Last Saturday’s race 
would have given the Eagle to either Fred or me 
— only it happened that Ruth won, and took first 
place for the year. Did you ever hear such mis- 
erable luck?” 

They laughed. 

“And then,” went on Howard, “according to 
the terms of the contest, we tried to settle the tie 
by counting up the number of races that each of 
the three had won — and there was a tie again ! So 
the next race settles it all.” 

“Does Fred Barnes have a grudge against 
you?” asked Pelham. 

“Oh, no,” answered Howard. “He ’s mighty 
grumpy just after he ’s been beaten, and he could 
hardly be polite to Ruth after she won last Sat- 
urday. He says mighty rude things when he ’s 
in such a mood — oh, I ’ve been ready to thrash 
him for them. But I ’ve come to learn that he 
forgets that he ’s insulted you, and seems sun 
prised that you have any feeling about it.” 


A RICH MAN’S SON 


69 


“The kind that doesn’t apologize,” remarked 
Pelham. “I know ’em. But what makes him 
so?” 

“Money, we think,” answered Howard. “His 
father ’s a good many times a millionaire, the get- 
rich-quick kind. I guess it ’s gone to Fred’s 
head.” 

“He ’s like some of the girls at school that show 
the dollar-sign,” said Lois. “I often think 
they ’re very lucky. ’ ’ 

“Lucky!” exclaimed all the rest together. 
Even Neil, sitting forward by the mast, for a mo- 
ment turned his head. 

“All they want is things,” Lois explained. 
“And things they can buy. They can even buy 
the kind of friend they want. Suppose, on the 
other hand, they wanted to be something? 
They ’ve never quite trained themselves for it. — 
Now I never saw Fred Barnes before just now, but. 
is n ’t he like that ? ’ ’ 

“Exactly!” cried Howard. 

“Come about,” said Neil quietly to Harriet. 
“We ’re running into shallow water.” 

He had left his place and come behind her ; and 
crouching on the narrow overhang of the stubby 
stern, he cleverly avoided the sweeping sheet as 


70 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


she brought the boat about. Instead of allowing 
her to belay the rope he held it half-cleated. His 
watchfulness and readiness gave her confidence, 
and she steered as he told her, beyond the cluster 
of boats that lay at anchor. Again at his direc- 
tion she brought the boat to another tack, and 
found it heading through a lane of anchored 
yachts, directly toward the end of the pier. She 
was delighted with the slow certainty with which 
the boat answered the wheel, delighted also that 
she understood what she was doing. Looking 
ahead, she saw that the Venture would pass close 
by the pier, entirely clear of all the anchored 
boats. Her confidence increased as she said to 
herself that sailing in a harbor was not so diffi- 
cult after all. So she allowed her eyes to wander 
from their previous strict attention to the course 
of the boat. 

Thus it was that she saw Fred Barnes, in his 
fifteen-footer that had passed them so recently, 
sailing on a course that was bringing the two boats 
near together. Quick thinking showed Harriet 
that Barnes was running almost before the wind ; 
she had, therefore, the right of way over him, and 
did not need to worry. Her inexperience, how- 
ever, kept her thinking of the situation which 


A EICH MAN’S SON 71 

would come about when in a few moments the two 
boats would be at their nearest. She was not able 
to gage their speeds so as to be sure that they 
could safely pass. Looking at Neil, she saw that 
he was not worried, but that his eye was atten- 
tively fixed upon the other boat. Howard 
also noticed the problem that was fast de- 
veloping. 

1 ‘ Fred sees that you ’re a greenhorn and means 
to bother you,” he said. ‘ 6 Don’t let him drive 
you into giving up the wheel.” 

Harriet looked again at the Flora, and now saw 
that probably the two boats would clear each other, 
not far from the end of the pier. Yet even if they 
were in danger of striking, Fred would have to 
give way to her. So she sailed confidently on, still 
unaware of yachtsmen’s tricks. 

The boats came near, and were indeed already 
passing, some ten yards apart, when Harriet heard 
Fred give a sharp order to his man. Looking, 
she saw that the man was beginning to haul in the 
sail. It did not need Howard’s angry growl to 
tell her what Fred was about to do. He was go- 
ing to bring the Flora round upon the starboard 
tack, and thus, having gained the right of way, 
would force the Venture to turn away from him. 


72 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


This would very neatly pocket Harriet behind the 
pier, while another quick turn on Fred’s part 
would leave him just outside, free to sail inno- 
cently away. 

“Well,” thought Harriet, “I suppose it will give 
him great satisfaction.” She looked at the pier 
in order to judge her distance. 

The rest all happened quickly. She had 
scarcely noticed a boatload of laughing children 
under the pier, splashing happily in the shadow, 
before the rattling of blocks and the flapping of 
the Flora’s sail called her attention back to her 
work. The racing boat had spun about, and had 
started to cross the Venture’s bows. So close was 
she that the big cat-boat could neither keep on 
nor turn toward her without a collision. Harriet 
could not help admiring the skill of the trick, while 
vexedly preparing to turn away. 

Ruth’s nervous cry hastened her. “About, 
Harriet! About!” 

But Neil said quietly, “You must keep on!” 

And on the instant Harriet recognized his rea- 
son. The boatload of children had managed to 
come out from under the pier, and were rowing 
themselves into the path where, should she turn, 
the Venture must cut them down. 


A RICH MAN’S SON 73 

“Keep on!” said Neil again, steadily. But he 
kept his hand from the wheel. 

Harriet gripped it the more firmly. Fred had 
created the situation, and Fred must suffer from 
it. 

She heard Neil shouting to the other boat. Pel- 
ham and Howard took up the cry. Harriet saw 
Ruth, with a little scream, start away from the 
side which must bear the collision, while at the 
same time Lois remained there, perfectly calm. 
The Flora did not turn, and Howard leaped for- 
ward to fend her off. Neil took his own measures 
to lessen the blow. 

“Let her come up now,” he said. 

And Harriet began to swing the bow into the 
wind. 

But it was all so sudden that nothing could pre- 
vent a heavy shock. Before Howard could catch 
the forestay of the Flora , before the Venture 
could turn entirely aside, the heavier boat struck 
the lighter about a yard from the bow. The rail 
crashed in, the forestay snapped. And amid the 
violent flapping of the falling jib, and excited 
shouts from behind the Flora's mainsail, the two 
boats slowly forged along together. 

From behind his jib, angrily pushing it aside 


74 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


as it enveloped him, appeared the figure of Fred 
Barnes. The boats were at last at a stand, and 
he was able to draw himself up with dignity in 
order to survey the occupants of the Venture. 
His expression was one of injured innocence. 

“Well!” he cried. “Of all the outrageous per- 
formances ! ’ ’ 

Pelham was boiling with wrath. He clenched 
his fist in order to make a more energetic retort. 
But Harriet’s hand on his arm restrained him, 
and he looked to Howard for a fitting answer. 

Very fortunately, Howard was entirely cool, 
being one of those rare boys who, without yielding 
their rights, see other ways to assert them than 
by fighting. He smiled upon the flushed captain 
of the other boat. 

“Didn’t work right, did it?” he asked. 

“I had the right of way,” asserted Fred. “I 
was on the starboard tack.” 

“Of course,” answered Howard. “We should 
have been delighted to go behind the pier, Fred, 
if it gave you any happiness. But rowboats have 
the final right of way, and you gave us no choice 
between these youngsters and you.” 

As he spoke the rowboat paddled up, and its 
innocent cargo began, with many whisperings, to 


A RICH MAN’S SON 


75 


estimate the damage to the Flora. One young- 
ster, after a critical survey, audibly remarked, 
“My, ain’t Fred mad!” And as if feeling it 
wiser to get out of his way, they began to paddle 
off again. 

Fred was indeed “mad.” He looked into How- 
ard’s smiling eyes, and realized that nothing was 
to be made out of him. He looked at Pelham, and 
meeting a fiery stare that seemed to say, “I would 
lick you for two cents,” let his glance wander on. 
Then he saw Neil. 

“Here, you, What ’s-your-name, Boatman,” he 
said. “You ’re responsible for this. I never saw 
such clumsy sailing.” 

In speaking thus to Neil, Fred broke one of the 
unwritten laws of yachting. To order another 
man’s boatman was wrong; to abuse him was so 
entirely improper that even Pelham, countryman 
as he was, recognized the seriousness of the of- 
fense. He looked at Neil to see what he would 
do. 

Neil stood quietly and looked at Howard for 
orders. 

“Do you hear me, you, sir?” shouted Fred in 
sudden passion. 

Neil looked at him for a fleeting instant, ex- 


76 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


pressing neither interest nor contempt. Then he 
looked away. 

At once Fred broke out. * ‘ Confound you, I said 
I never heard such clumsiness. Did you hear 
me!” Then as Neil neither spoke nor moved, 
Fred turned to Howard. 

“Look here, Winslow,’ ’ he fumed, “your 
boatman ’s an insolent ass, do you understand? 
If you had a decent sailor aboard, my boat 
wouldn’t have been smashed up like this.” He 
gestured eloquently toward the splintered rail at 
his feet. “You ought to discharge him for a fool, 
do you know that ? ’ ’ 

But now Fred, pausing for an answer, ideas and 
breath both gone, met silence from Howard also. 
He became aware that Howard was looking at him 
curiously, studying him as if he were a complete 
stranger. It cast a sudden chill upon him, even 
though, in order to break the silence, he continued, 

“I ’ve a good mind to protest to the Regatta 
Committee against his employment in the races.” 

He knew that the threat was empty. A racer 
might have in his boat any one that he chose. And 
without answering, Howard still stood and sur- 
veyed Fred as some new and interesting object. 

Fred’s anger suddenly burned low, like a fire 


A RICH MAN’S SON 77 

on which has descended a blanket of incombusti- 
ble gas. From Howard’s cold silence he turned 
to Pelham, only to find that his blazing anger had 
likewise turned into cool curiosity. Fred looked 
at the girls, and his defeat was completed, for 
they were shrinking from him as they would have 
shrunk, upon the street, from a quarrelsome raga- 
muffin. That was how they seemed to regard 
him, Fred Barnes, son of much money. 

His self-confidence gave way, and turning to his 
own boatman, he began to scold him roughly for 
not taking in the jib. 

His man, who had been standing waiting for 
Fred to move in order to begin this necessary 
task, silently began to unhitch the downhaul. 
Looking neither at his employer nor the others, 
he worked with a sullen and spiritless air. Fred 
himself caught up the boathook in order to thrust 
the boats apart. 

4 ‘Just one thing,” said Howard. Fred looked 
up at him. “If you think we ’re to blame for in- 
juring your boat, I will pay for repairs.” 

Fred flushed. 1 i Pay me! You pay me f ” His 
contemptuous tone was quite answer enough. 
Thrusting hard against the Venture with his boat- 
hook, he at once put yards between them. Then 


78 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


he leaped down into the cockpit, and while he held 
the tiller, from behind the sail sent a volley of 
confusing orders at his sluggish man. Without 
a change of expression the fellow hauled the jib 
on deck, and began to detach it from the broken 
forestay. 

“Well,” said Howard, “let ’s get busy too.” 
He pushed the sail out, Neil swung the wheel over, 
and in a moment the wind began to drive the heavy 
boat out into the bay. 

Howard returned from a brief inspection of the 
bow. “No harm done. The paint is only a little 
marred. That ’s what comes of having the heav- 
ier boat.” And sitting in the cockpit, he began 
cheerfully to whistle. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE LOSS OP THE EAGLE 

T HE Winslows and their two visitors were 
sailing together on the Hera. As Pelham, 
as was usual in these days, had the tiller, Howard 
needed occupation, and had drawn out from the 
cabin the little aeroplane which, for reasons which 
Bert could very well explain, Neil, who knew that 
the chauffeur’s grudge was not yet satisfied, kept 
on the boat. The frame was practically complete. 
Howard balanced it in his hand, and called on the 
others to admire it. 

“Wonderful!” said Lois, without looking at it. 
Howard offered it to her. “Look at the work 
in those propellers.” 

Lois looked up at the mast-head. “Marvel- 
ous!” she declared. 

“It ’s very cleverly made,” insisted Pelham, 
roused by her indifference. 

Lois looked at him at last. “Can it fly?” she 
demanded. “Will it fly? Let us conjugate the 
79 


80 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


verb. I will fly, yon will fly, it will fly. We shall 
all fly when we see fly the flying fly-plane. ’ ’ 

“It ’s all very well to joke,” protested Pelham, 
“but that is a mighty nice machine. Neil is a 
good carpenter.” 

“And somebody else is a good boss,” mocked 
Lois. “Many a time and oft have we seen fine- 
looking boats that couldn’t sail. I will remind 
the gentleman who has just spoken of the old 
proverb, * You can’t tell by the looks of a frog how 
far he ’ll jump.’ ” 

“She ’ll jump, all right,” returned Pelham. 

“Then why don’t you fly her?” demanded Lois. 

“I can’t get the right kind of rubber,” explained 
Pelham. “Neither of the stores in this town sells 
it, and I ’ve had to send to Boston.” 

“Never despair,” advised Lois. “Keep her on 
the mantelpiece, and tell how she would go, If 
Only — !” 

And then Pelham understood, from Howard’s 
picturesque language, and the laughter of the oth- 
ers, that Lois had got the better of him. He was 
glad when mercifully she took up another subject. 

“Tell me about this wonderful trophy,” she 
said, “that nobody has shown me yet, but every- 
body speaks about, The Golden Eagle.” 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 


81 


“Why, it ’s in the boathouse,” said Howard. 
“Do you mean that it hasn’t been shown you? 
Neil is so proud of our having it that he usually 
shows it to everybody.” 

“Neil and Pelham are so busy with their aero- 
plane,” answered Lois, “that they haven’t time 
for anything else. Is the Golden Eagle the little 
brass turkey-buzzard that I ’ve noticed on the 
mantelpiece ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, come now,” cried Howard, to provoke 
whom Lois was now trying, “you won’t find a bet- 
ter piece of metal work short of some of the big 
collections.” 

“If it ’s so valuable,” asked Lois, “why don’t 
you keep it in a safer place?” 

“The place is safe enough,” returned Howard. 
“No one locks up anything down here. You could 
steal a thing from the mantel in the house as well 
as from the boathouse. It seems more appropri- 
ate in the boathouse; that ’s one reason why we 
keep it there. ’ ’ 

“Colton is a nice little Paradise, so it is,” re- 
marked Lois demurely. “Without any snakes at 
all, so there is n’t.” 

But Howard, less sensitive than Pelham, was 
not to be deterred by the general laugh that fol- 


82 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


lowed. “Take a good look at the Eagle before 
it gets stolen,” he said. “You won’t see another 
such thing in a hurry. It ’s probably a genuine 
Roman piece. Brass, of course ; not gold, though 
some of the boatmen think it is. It has a socket, 
you know. The expert in New York says he has 
no doubt it is the top of one of the ancient battle 
standards.” 

Lois was actually sobered. “Indeed! Where 
did it come from ? ’ 9 

“It was dug up in France. Father bought it 
from the peasant that found it. The workman- 
ship is wonderful. We ’re crazy to win it, Ruth 
and I. Then it will stay in the family. ’ ’ 

“And Neil is proud of it?” asked Harriet. 

“Oh, yes. He ’s always kept it wonderfully 
bright. — You know he ’s fond of history, and he ’s 
told me that he believes that the Eagle helped him 
win his prize in Roman history last spring, by 
making it all seem real to him. That ’s why he ’s 
always polishing it.” 

“The wind is falling,” remarked Pelham. 
“Hadn’t we better be getting back?” 

“You ’re coming on,” applauded Howard. “I 
was just going to suggest it.” 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 


83 


So slowly they zig-zagged back across the hay. 
“No one must give me directions,’ ’ declared Pel- 
ham. “Neil has shown me the way through the 
channel a dozen times, and now I want to sail 
this boat through alone. ’ ’ 

The entrance to the harbor was difficult. To 
one side lay Hen and Chickens, among which the 
entering tide drove strongly. On the other side 
lay sandbars, through which a bending course of 
a quarter mile was marked by buoys, indicating a 
channel which it was difficult to manage in either 
light or heavy winds. But in spite of the failing 
breeze, Pelham brought the Hera through tri- 
umphantly. 

“A good little boat,” he said when they praised 
him. “I hadn’t supposed that a single hand 
could manage a boat of this size.” 

‘ i A skilled sailor can do it in any weather, ’ ’ re- 
plied Howard. “You ought to see the scallopers 
go out in half a gale, in cat-boats even smaller than 
this. Neil and his grandfather do it together, a 
boy and an old man. And they ’re the only ones 
here who care to shoot their boat through among 
the Hen and Chickens.” 

“There ’s a channel there?” asked Pelham. 


84 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“No channel; just a deep narrow passage; 
you ’ve got to take it exactly right or you ’ll stave 
your boat in. It saves the slow tacking through 
the channel when you want to rush your catch onto 
the last train for Boston.” 

The little harbor had now opened out before 
the yacht. Its boats were all at anchor; appar- 
ently the noontide peace was settling down. 
There was just enough wind to bring the Hera to 
her moorings. As they were almost drifting on 
the last tack, Howard pointed to the boathouse. 
“See, I do believe that Neil is polishing the Golden 
Eagle at this minute.” 

The boy was clearly visible, sitting before the 
boathouse, bending over an object in his lap which 
from time to time sent forth bright gleams. But 
he evidently had his mind on the Hera , for he 
glanced at it occasionally ; and at last he went into 
the boathouse, returned empty handed, and began, 
by putting away oars and sails, and coiling ropes, 
to make the place ready for his employers. 

“Stand by to pick up the mooring,” ordered 
Pelham, with a fine air of command which his com- 
panions much appreciated. 

The mooring was secured, the sails hauled down 
and furled, and the little tender brought alongside. 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 85 

“I can take you all,” said Howard, preparing to 
descend into it. 

“Neil is coming; he can take some of us,” re- 
turned Pelham. 

Howard looked over his shoulder. “That is n’t 
Neil; it ’s Bert in the old skiff. Going fishing, I 
suppose. Just like him — to loaf on shore till 
there ’s some chance of our wanting him, and then 
to start out on a jaunt of his own — Ah, there ’s 
Neil, coming now.” 

Around the moored Venture came the lad in a 
neat little tender. Lois and Pelham embarked 
with him. “Wait for us at the boathouse,” called 
Howard. “Neil will show us the Eagle.” 

NeiPs eyes shone as he rowed. “I ’ve almost 
forgotten the Eagle in making the aeroplane, hut 
just now I took it down and cleaned it. I hope 
you ’ll see in it what I do ; it has a fierceness and 
loftiness that give an idea how a soldier feels in 
battle. No wonder the Roman legionaries were 
proud of their eagles.” 

“It ’s a pity you can’t race for it,” said Pelham. 

“I ’d do my best,” answered Neil, laughing. 
“Indeed, I ’ve sometimes thought that a wonder- 
ful prize like the Eagle might tempt a fellow to 
do his worst, to cheat or foul, in order to win it.” 


86 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

They thought he did not mean it ; they told each 
other afterward that of course he could not mean 
it. And yet they could not forget that he had 
said the words. 

They waited for the others at the float; then 
Lois, walking first to the boathouse, went in. She 
reappeared at the door as the others approached. 
“ Where do you keep the old thing ?” she asked. 
“I don’t find it.” 

‘ 1 On the mantel , 9 9 answered both Ruth and How- 
ard, entering. Then in their turn they demanded 
of Neil, “ Where have you put it?” 

4 ‘On the mantel?” he too answered, and also 
looked for it. Then he glanced appealingly at the 
rest in turn. 

“I am sure I put it there,” he said. 

But though they looked on the floor below, and 
wherever he might thoughtlessly have laid it, there 
was no result. Then they searched the boathouse 
thoroughly. The Golden Eagle was not to be 
found. 

Neil was in great distress. “I am sure I put it 
back,” he said, earnestly. “Some one has taken 
it; I ’m sure I can’t say who.” He looked from 
one to the other appealingly. “You believe me, 
don’t you?” 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 


87 


“Of course we do,” said Pelham as heartily as 
he could. And yet he remembered Neil’s words, 
spoken while rowing ashore. 

But Neil, with a fleeting smile of thanks, ap- 
pealed directly to his employer’s son. “You 
don’t suspect me, do you?” 

Howard could not answer with Pelham’s ear- 
nestness. “Why, I suppose I don’t,” he acknowl- 
edged. Neil’s face turned pale. “Confound it,” 
cried Howard. “See how awkward it is for me. 
The deciding race comes in a week. Suppose 
neither Ruth nor I wins — then we ’ve got to pro- 
duce the Eagle — and it ’s gone!” 

“But I didn’t take it!” cried Neil. 

“You were the last that had it,” answered How- 
ard gloomily. 

There was a long and painful pause. Neil 
looked at Howard, Howard at the floor; the one 
most evident fact was stated, and there seemed 
nothing more to say, when Lois suddenly struck 
in. 

“We haven’t thought of Bert.” 

“Sure enough,” cried Pelham, and Howard’s 
face showed relief. “Bert came down to the float 
while you were busy about here, and went out 
fishing. Did he start before or after you?” 


88 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“Before me,” replied Neil. 

“Even then,” persisted Pelham, “couldn’t he 
have slipped into the boathouse, picked up the 
Eagle, and slipped out again?” 

“He might,” agreed Neil, “but I don’t honestly 
think he did. I know I was busy outside the boat- 
house just then; I didn’t see him till he was get- 
ting into the skiff. Usually he does n’t go into the 
boathouse at all ; simply passes by. If he took the 
Eagle he must have come with his mind all made 
up to it, found the house empty, snatched the 
Eagle, and passed along.” 

Howard, still gloomy, caught at the idea. “I 
believe he did it ! ” 

“Then if he took the Eagle,” said Lois, “he 
has it now. He can’t have thrown it away, for 
the thump or the splash would have attracted 
Neil’s attention. Besides, don’t you think he 
wants it because he thinks it ’s gold? Call him 
ashore, and without his knowing it, look over both 
him and the boat. The Eagle ’s too big to be hid- 
den in a pocket. ’ ’ 

They looked off at the distant Bert, peacefully 
fishing at a buoy. Howard seized the megaphone 
and called him. “Bert, come ashore! You ’re 
needed.” But then he turned to the others. 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 89 

“He may have managed to hide it. What ex- 
cuse shall we user’ 

“Father or mother wants the car,’’ suggested 
Ruth. 

“Father is in the city over to-morrow. Moth- 
er ’s across the harbor at the Collinses. Well, I ’ll 
make up something.” 

They waited on the float in awkward silence 
while Bert came. He was in no apparent hurry, 
yet apologized as he neared them. “I didn’t 
know I should be wanted.” 

“We are going to the post-office,” said Howard. 
“Get the car ready, will you?” 

In strained attention they watched the man 
leave the boat. He had no bait-can, and had 
caught no fish. His line was in his hand. There 
was evidently nothing under the two thwarts. 
There was no bulge of his pockets. The six sus- 
picious glances therefore centered on his jacket, 
which lay folded beside him. He picked it up, 
shook it out, then dropped it as he stepped upon 
the float. Instantly Pelham lifted it and handed 
it to him. 

“Ready in five minutes,” said Bert, as he hur- 
ried away. 

They all looked at Pelham. He shook his head. 


90 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“The jacket was light as a feather. Impossible 
that he had the Eagle.” 

‘ ‘ How did he happen to be fishing without bait ? ’ ’ 
demanded Lois. 

“He might have had a few periwinkles/ ’ an- 
swered Howard. “He would throw them over on 
starting ashore/ ’ 

His gloom was evidently returning. “Oh! ,, 
groaned Neil, “I would do anything to prove that 
I ’m telling the truth. I ’ll buy another eagle.” 

“You can’t,” answered Howard. “Nobody 
knows where there ’s another like it. ’ ’ 

Returning to the boat-house, once more in pain- 
ful silence they stood and thought. Lois spoke at 
last, with the same brisk energy that had marked 
each of her suggestions. “Listen, Bert doesn’t 
know that we suspect him. If he ’s honest, he 
doesn’t even know that the Eagle is stolen. Let 
every one of us keep quiet about it. If he ’s a 
thief, he may let slip something to show he knows 
the Eagle is missing. And then we shall have 
him. ’ ’ 

It was a good plan, they agreed; a very good 
plan. Unfortunately it was spoiled almost as soon 
as made. For voices on the float, and steps on 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 91 

the pier, roused them ; and Howard, looking out at 
the door, exclaimed in dismay. 

A party of half a dozen, headed by a familiar 
figure, was advancing toward the boathouse. 
“ It ’s Fred Barnes, ’ 9 explained Howard. ‘ 1 Every 
now and then he runs over in his motor-boat to 
show the Eagle off to a party. In fact, that is one 
reason why we keep the Eagle down here instead 
of in the house ; we don’t like to have Fred round.” 

Fred, as he appeared in the doorway, was quite 
his usual self. His carriage was confident, his 
handsome face self-satisfied, his assurance in 
thrusting himself in was unshakable. 

“Come right in,” he said to his followers. 
“How-do, Howard. Just ran over to show the 
Eagle. Come right in. It ’s right up there on 
the mantelpiece. Why — !” And with a face of 
indignant amazement he turned to Howard. 
“Where have you put it?” 

“He made me mad,” said Howard afterward. 
“He made me so mad that I told him the truth, 
and let him swallow it if he could. ’ ’ — ‘ 4 We have n ’t 
put it anywhere,” he said to Barnes. “We have 
just been trying to find it. It ’s missing.” 

‘ ‘ Stolen ? 9 9 cried the intruder. 


92 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

“Possibly,” answered Howard with apparent 
indifference. 

“Then where ’s yonr boatman?” demanded 
Barnes. “All those fellows want is money. 
“Oh,” and seeing Neil, he pounced upon him. 
“You have charge of this place. Where is the 
Eagle? When did you see it last?” 

Howard suddenly cast off his assumed careless- 
ness. “Shut up, Barnes!” he cried hotly. 
4 ‘ What do you mean by coming into my place and 
speaking to my boatman like that?” 

‘ 4 1 know all about boatmen, ’ ’ returned the other, 
in no whit troubled. “I never had an honest one 
yet.” 

“And no wonder,” returned Howard. “But I 
haven’t asked for your opinion. Now suppose 
you get busy somewhere else, and let me look after 
my own affairs.” 

One of the visiting party, a man old enough to 
be Barnes’s father, took him by the arm and led 
him to the door. But there the boy broke away. 
“Your own affairs!” he cried to Howard. “Re- 
member that I have a claim on the Eagle. This 
is my affair quite as much as yours.” 

“You have one claim and we have two,” an- 
swered Howard. 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 


93 


‘ i Just the same/’ retorted the excited intruder, 
“you make sure the Eagle is at Marlow for the 
next race. If not, I ’ll protest to the Committee, 
I ’ll—” 

But this time, with a securer grip, he was led 
away, his voice fading under the muffled protests 
that were poured into his ear. 

“His own people are ashamed of him! ” cried 
Ruth. 

“Of course we knew just what he is,” said How- 
ard. “But still — !” And his gloom descended 
on him again. 

Neil noted the sign of doubt. “Oh,” he began, 
“if only I — ” 

“Cut it out, Neil,” interrupted Howard good- 
naturedly. “I ’m only thinking that I ought to 
have the Eagle at the race next week. I don’t 
think you had anything to do with its disappear- 
ance; honestly I don’t. Somebody else took it, 
I ’m sure.” 

“Perhaps you think it ’s me,” said a voice be- 
hind them all. 

And there stood Bert. He was scowling 
angrily. “I see now,” he cried, “why you called 
me in from my fishing. You never use me to take 
you to the post-office, that short distance. And 


94 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


that ’s why yon stood and stared, all of you, when 
I got out of the boat. The Eagle’s stole, is it? 
And if yon don’t believe that Neil took it, of 
course yon think it ’s me!” 

“I haven’t made up my mind,” answered 
Howard. 

“Come up and search the garage,” challenged 
the chauffeur. “Go through my room, and my 
suitcase. ’ ’ 

“I don’t want to,” answered Howard. 

“Search his room, then,” cried Bert, pointing 
to Neil. “Perhaps you think he hasn’t found a 
way to smuggle the thing home. Look over his gar- 
den, and see where he or his old grandfather has 
been digging lately. The boy ’s a sneak, he ’s — !” 

Howard had come through one ordeal pretty 
well. Now he asserted himself again. “Bert,” 
he said sharply, “suppose you keep quiet!” 

The chauffeur, taken aback, stopped short and 
looked at him. 

“I don’t propose,” said Howard, “to do any- 
thing more about this till my father gets back, 
probably to-morrow. When he comes, I ’ll tell 
him all about it. Till then, we must all of us say 
nothing. Neil must tell his grandfather, of 
course, and I shall tell my mother. But nobody 


THE LOSS OF THE EAGLE 


95 


else is to know. Bert, I expect yon to tell no one. 
Now go and pnt up the car. We shan’t go to the 
post-office.” 

It was wisely decided, and might have been 
effective but for the boy who had already spoiled 
plans. On the following day, before Mr. Winslow 
had returned, Mrs. Winslow called the young 
folks to her, and read aloud from the local paper 
which came in the noon mail. 

4 4 To the Editor. Sir: I am informed that a 
certain racing trophy, supposed to be a fine an- 
tique, which you will remember has not been 
finally won, has disappeared through the careless- 
ness of those who had it in charge. Through 
recklessness or indifference, it was merely left in 
a boathouse, from which it has been pilfered. 
When will our thoughtless summer population 
learn not to trust the doubtful morals of those 
who loaf along our water-fronts? (Signed). 
Yachtsman. Marlow, Massachusetts.” 

4 4 That ’s Fred Barnes all right,” sneered 
Howard. 4 4 Mighty fine writing.” 

4 4 It will make your father very angry,” said his 
mother. 

4 4 It will make poor Neil very miserable,” added 
sympathetic Harriet. 


CHAPTER VII 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 

I T was a general disappointment that Mr. 

Winslow wrote to postpone his coming for a 
few hours, perhaps for a day, longer. All of the 
household had been eager to lay before him the 
question which had so disturbed them. On it 
Ruth and Harriet had very positive opinions. 
Neil was innocent; Bert was the thief. 

“The man ought to be discharged,” declared 
Ruth. “I ’ve come to dislike him. I hate to sit 
behind him in the car. I know he did it. ’ ’ 

The boys, shrewd and practical, had a different 
point of view. “Suppose we do discharge him,” 
inquired Howard. “How then shall we get the 
Eagle back?” 

“Put him in prison,” cried Ruth. “Keep him 
till he gives it up.” 

Howard, smiling, shook his head. “We 
haven’t proof enough to arrest him on.” 

And Pelham inquired. “Why should Bert 
96 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 97 

steal it, anyway? I don’t think he was so stupid 
as to suppose the thing was gold.” 

Mrs. Winslow spoke. “Lois has kept quiet. 
What does she think?” 

Lois had her theory. “I think the motive was 
spite.” They asked what she meant, and she ex- 
plained. “I think he dislikes Neil.” 

“Why?” they demanded. 

“I don’t know why he should,” she admitted. 
“I don’t know why I think it. Even Dick says 
he ’s never seen any quarrel between them.” 

“You ’ve been inquiring?” asked Mrs. Wins- 
low, interested in Lois’s line of thought. 

“Yes,” the girl admitted. “There ought to be 
a motive. And spite is a pretty strong one. But 
I can’t prove it.” 

“Well,” said Mrs. Winslow, “I think Howard 
and Pelham ought to tell Neil of the letter in the 
paper, to prepare him for anything that may be 
said about the disappearance of the Eagle.” 

Howard and Pelham found Neil at the boat- 
house, sewing upon a sail, and inattentively wait- 
ing until Dick should finish a long story about a 
race that had taken place some summers back. 
Except for them the harbor front was deserted, 
nor was there life on the water, for by chance most 


98 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


of the men-folk of Colton were away, in the city, 
or cruising, or on visits. As the two boys en- 
tered the boathouse, NeiPs eyes flashed with 
eager inquiry; but when Howard shook his head, 
NeiPs disappointment was plain. There was but 
one apparent advantage to their coming, for Dick 
brought his story to a sudden close. 

Poor NeiPs gloom deepened as Howard read 
the letter from the newspaper, and as he ex- 
plained the situation to slow-witted Dick. 

“Ah, I see,” said Dick, ceasing at last to 
scratch his head. “And that ’s why Neil has 
been so lost all day, thinking of something every 
minute, and not up to his work at all. Why, he 
was n’t rightly listening to my story of the three- 
cornered race here, in June of 1910.” 

Howard and Pelham were amused; even Neil 
faintly smiled. “I thought, Neil,” said Howard, 
“that perhaps you ’d like the rest of the day off, 
to spend at home. ’ ’ 

But Neil shook his head. “Grandfather ’s 
away at work, and I hate the place when I ’m 
alone. Give me something to do. I was able to 
forget myself this morning, showing you how to 
make the passage through Hen and Chickens.” 

“Too bad we can’t get up a race,” mused 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 99 

Howard. They all knew that to be impossible 
for lack of a fair number of competitors. 

“Is it too soon,” asked Neil, “for me to begin 
to get the Hera ready for next week’s race? 
I ’d like to be extra thorough this time, and 
there ’s not far from three days’ work, with the 
same for the Rhoda. Dick and I can work to- 
gether, and can put a lot of time into finishing the 
work nicely.” 

Howard had not planned to begin the work for 
another day, but he saw that it would be a kind- 
ness to Neil to let him commence now. The boy 
craved employment, any work that would take his 
mind off himself. And the grooming of the boat 
for the race, which is always done by the boatmen 
with the most exact care, was just what Neil 
needed. Howard was willing to give up the 
Hera, for there would still be the other two 
boats to sail in. So he directed the two boatmen 
to begin the work, and even sat for a while with 
Pelham to watch the men get ready the car on the 
little railway that ran down into the water and 
was used for hauling up the boats. 

“It ’s broken Neil all up,” said Pelham, as he 
watched. “When we were at Hen and Chickens 
this morning, learning that tricky passage — and I 


100 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


hope never to try it again — Neil was awake 
enough, for any mistake would smash the boat. 
But you remember that when we got ashore, I 
found in the mail the rubbers for the aeroplane, 
sent from Boston. I was so interested that I 
went right off with them to Neil, while you were 
at your studies ; and I gave him a lesson in flying 
the model. But he had had a glimpse of Bert, or 
something had happened to remind him of the 
Eagle; for though he flew the plane well enough, 
and it went finely, he was so depressed that I took 
pity on him, and brought the thing away.” 

In the meantime Lois and Harriet were alone 
at the house, where Mrs. Winslow and Ruth, 
called away by unavoidable duties, had left them. 
For a while the two girls had talked of the dis- 
appearance of the Eagle. “If Neil would only 
speak out about Bert!” exclaimed Lois. “I ’m 
sure he could tell us that the man dislikes him, and 
why. But he ’s too high-minded.” 

“That ’s a strange complaint,” laughed Har- 
riet. 

“We shall find out that it ’s so,” declared Lois, 
refusing to be amused. 

They separated, Harriet to write a letter in the 
parlor, Lois to pace up and down on the piazza. 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 101 

“How she thinks of it!” remarked Harriet to 
herself. But she forgot Lois in the interest of 
her letter, until the sound of the other girl’s quiet 
voice came to her through the window. “Har- 
riet, I think the field-glasses are on the table. 
Will you bring them to me?” 

Wondering why Lois should not serve herself, 
Harriet found the glasses, and carried them to 
her. Lois was looking out over the water, and 
took the glasses without turning her head. 
“Thanks,” she said. “I didn’t want to take my 
eyes off Bert out there. Have you noticed, Har- 
riet,” she asked as she was adjusting the glasses, 
“that he has taken a good deal to fishing since 
yesterday? Up to now I have not seen him fish- 
ing at all.” 

“Why, no,” answered Harriet. “I did not 
notice.” 

“He was out there last evening, at the same 
buoy that we called him away from. He was out 
there this morning before breakfast. He is out 
there now. He doesn’t stay long; just fishes a 
little while, and then comes back. Look through 
the glass, Harriet. Does he seem to be interested 
in his fishing?” 

Harriet took the glass. Through it Bert 


102 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

showed astonishingly near. He seemed to be sit- 
ting idly, his hands in his lap. “He ’s holding 
the line,” she said, “but in order to fish properly 
his hand ought to be outside the boat. — Now he ’s 
hauling in.” 

‘ ‘ See if he looks at his bait, ’ ’ directed Lois. 

“Well, he did, but not with much interest. 
He ’s thrown it over again.” 

“Harriet,” said Lois, “I want you to go out 
sailing with me. At once. Ruth is away, but she 
would let us take the Rhoda.” 

Lois’s skill with ropes and oars had from the 
first been the object of Harriet’s imitation. 
Rapidly the two rowed out to Ruth’s yacht, and 
got it ready to sail. Without pause or error the 
two sails were lifted, the mooring cast loose with 
the tender attached, the boat put under way. All 
the time Harriet’s mind was on the reason for this 
excursion, and she could not keep her eyes from 
wandering toward the chauffeur. 

“Oh, Lois,” she cried presently, “Bert is row- 
ing ashore.” 

With a sweep Lois at once brought the Rhoda 
about, and tacked toward the chauffeur’s boat. 
“Thanks,” she said. “Now, Harriet, I shall pass 
close to him. We must both, without appearing 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 103 

to stare at him, see whether one of his pockets is 
bulging, as if the Eagle were there.’ ’ 

‘ ‘ The Eagle ? ’ ’ asked Harriet. 1 1 Why, how — ? ’ ’ 

i ‘ Never mind,” answered Lois coolly. 4 ‘ Just 
look.” 

They shot by Bert just beyond the reach of his 
oars. With disguised care they looked him all 
over. ‘ 4 What did you see?” asked Lois when 
they were well beyond him. 

“Nothing.” 

“And I also nothing. Now I ’m going back, to 
watch him when he gets out of the boat.” 

They tacked back to their float, which Bert more 
slowly approached. “He sees we ’re coming,” 
said Lois, speaking low, “but he won’t look at 
us.” 

Bert did not look at them at all. He tied his 
boat, scrambled out of it, and walked along the 
pier, without once turning his head in their di- 
rection. The girls scanned him for a bulging 
pocket, for a sag in the jacket which he wore. 
“Did you see anything at all?” asked Lois, dis- 
appointment in her voice. Neither of them had 
seen anything. 

“Now,” said Lois, “I ’m going back to that 
buoy.” She swept the boat about again, and they 


104 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


sped across the little harbor. Harriet, with a 
growing excitement, began to feel as if she were 
on the track of something, though what it was she 
did not know. 

“Look back,” said Lois. “Do you see Bert 
anywhere f ’ ’ 

“No,” answered Harriet, after a carefully care- 
less survey. “He must be going up the path 
through the woods.” 

“Or else watching us from it,” added Lois. 
“Now, Harriet, when I get near to the buoy, look 
it over carefully, and see if there is a line tied to 
it.” 

They sailed past the buoy within six feet. It 
was a spar buoy. “I can see nothing,” reported 
Harriet. ‘ 4 There ’s nothing tied to it whatever. ’ 9 

Lois was persistent. “I ’ll put you by again. 
This time I ’ll look too. Look under water; per- 
haps the string has slipped down.” 

Once more they rushed past the buoy close at 
hand. Both the girls peered over the side — but 
nothing was to be seen. The ruffled water so dis- 
guised everything below its surface that scarcely 
a foot of the submerged spar was visible. 

“And yet,” cried Lois, “what does the fellow 
come here for, every few hours, never catching a 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 105 

fish nor really trying to, if this buoy has n’t some- 
thing to do with — oh, Harriet, I wish we ’d 
brought the tender!” 

“Why 'if” asked Harriet. 

“I believe the Eagle is here, somehow attached 
to the buoy. Why else should the man come back, 
like a miser to his buried treasure? But we 
haven’t a boat-hook, and we ’re too high out of 
water to put a hand down to feel. We ’ll go and 
get the tender and row over here.” 

Swiftly they slipped back to the mooring, 
dropped and furled the sails, and got into the 
tender. Lois took the oars. But as she rowed 
around the stern of the RJioda to take the 
shortest way to the buoy, Harriet, who was steer- 
ing, uttered a low cry of dismay. 

“Bert is rowing back to it! He’s nearly 
there !” 

Lois exclaimed in disgust, “If I had only taken 
the tender in tow, and sailed back! Of course he 
was watching us from under the trees.” She be- 
gan to row with energy. “Oh, Harriet, notice 
everything he does!” 

She rowed hard, while Harriet watched the 
man. Bert, still rowing to the buoy, was so facing 
that he could see what they were doing. He 


106 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


reached the buoy, laid his hand upon it, and hold- 
ing the boat thus, took a long look at the girls. 
Their course to him was so direct and unchanging 
that he could not fail to know their object. Then, 
turning his back, he leaned low over the side of 
his boat. 

Harriet, with a sudden pull on the rudder, gave 
the boat a wide sweep. “Lois, look!” 

Bert, again erect, kept his back to them, his 
elbows close to his sides. Yet by the motion of 
his shoulders they knew that he was rapidly pull- 
ing in something. And then as they looked his 
unmoored boat swung a little with the wind. 
They saw the quick motions of his hands, the glis- 
tening line that came over the gunwale, and then 
a sudden flash. Something thumped against the 
side of his boat. With one sweep of his hand, 
Bert gathered it in. And then he was innocently 
taking to his oars again. 

Lois, facing about, met Harriet’s eye. The 
girls were breathing fast ; each knew what she had 
seen. Lois gripped the oars firmer. “Steer me 
straight at him,” she said, and began to row. 

But Bert did not row back toward the float. He 
turned his bow toward a cove, and began to row 
as if in no haste. Then gradually turning, he be- 


.pr|$gj8| 









Jones, again erect, kept his back to them 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 109 

gan to skirt the shore. With her eyes Lois ques- 
tioned Harriet as to the changes in the course. 

“He ’s pretending that he ’s merely rowing for 
pleasure.” 

“Steer ahead of him,” said Lois. “Cut right 
across his bows.” 

The little harbor was very quiet. There 
seemed few in sight to watch what was becoming 
an evident chase. Harriet wondered if any one 
on shore, where a dozen houses stood in full view, 
was watching them. She laid the course of the 
boat across the line which Bert was following, 
while Lois still rowed with her determined energy. 
Watching, Harriet saw Bert turn and look at 
them, once, twice. He tried to quicken his speed, 
but penned within the cove, he could not escape 
without an evident attempt to run away. It was 
plain that soon the girls would cut him off. He 
looked irresolutely from side to side. 

“We ’re worrying him,” said Harriet. 

Lois’s smile of stern satisfaction changed to a 
look of concern. “Harriet, are you afraid to go 
right up to him?” 

Harriet was about to answer confidently, when 
over his shoulder Bert cast at them a look of 
angry desperation. And she hesitated. 


110 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“It ’s our last chance , 99 pleaded Lois. “If he 
gets away with the Eagle we shall never see it 
again. ? 9 

Harriet decided. “I ’m not afraid. The 
man ’s a coward. Row!” 

And Lois bent to the oars. 

Suddenly, with a resolute squaring of his shoul- 
ders, Bert drew one oar into the boat. The rat- 
tle was audible to Lois, and she turned to look. 
The man bent swiftly, snatched up something 
from between his feet, and threw it overboard. 
There was a flash, a splash. And then Bert, seiz- 
ing his oar again, began rowing leisurely, indiffer- 
ently. He swung the stern of his boat so that he 
could look at the girls, and his expression was de- 
fiant. 

With one voice the girls had cried out at his 
action. The Golden Eagle was settling to the bot- 
tom of the harbor. They knew it. And yet they 
had been fifty yards away when the Eagle had 
been thrown; they had not seen it clearly; they 
could prove nothing. In complete dismay they 
stared at the distant patch of water, then turned 
and looked at each other. 

“We can never — ,” began Harriet. 

But Lois, under the sudden spur of an idea, be- 


LOIS, DETECTIVE 111 

gan rowing. 4 4 Harriet, ’ ’ she cried, “ steer me as 
exactly as you can to where the Eagle went down. 
Don’t look at Bert. Don’t look at anything else. 
Keep your eyes on the place.” 

From the position of Bert’s boat Harriet could 
fairly w T ell judge of the spot where the Eagle 
disappeared. Bert drew away from it, taking 
such a course that they would pass him at no 
great distance. But Harriet did not remove her 
eyes from the place which she had decided on. 
She knew that everything — everything, that is, 
which Lois had in mind — depended on her close 
attention. To keep the exact location of a single 
spot in the shifting waves was difficult; Harriet 
strained all her faculties to the work. Though 
Bert, as he passed them, began to whistle a tune, 
she took no notice. Lois, however, gave him one 
brief glance. 

“His arm is wet to the shoulder.” 

“Slow down,” warned Harriet a few moments 
later. “We are nearly there. Stop rowing. 
Get ready to back. — Back! As nearly as I can 
judge, Lois, this is the place.” 

“And the moment we stand still,” said Lois, 
“the wind begins to drift us away. If only I had 
something to buoy the place with! I must take 


112 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


bearings.” And rapidly she took sights at dif- 
ferent points on the shore. 4 ‘ Between our boat- 
house and the high pine on the Neck. Between 
the last bush on the island and the Cabot’s wind- 
mill. There, we can find the place fairly well 
again.” 

“But what good will it do us?” demanded Har- 
riet. “We can’t send down a diver.” 

“We can try other things,” replied Lois. She 
looked at Harriet with determined energy. “But 
I must first ask advice. ’ ’ Then she smiled. 
“When that rascal of a chauffeur is out of the 
way, we’ll go ashore. And though we can’t yet 
prove that he ’s a rascal, it ’s such a satisfaction 
to know it!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE DKEDGE 

B Y the time the girls reached shore it was after 
five o’clock. The boatmen had gone, but the 
boys were still away, and Mrs. Winslow had not 
returned with Ruth. Impatiently Lois and Har- 
riet waited their coming, saw the boys come first, 
and would not tell them alone, saw the others ar- 
rive just in time to dress for dinner, and could 
not tell them then. The meal seemed very, very 
long. But when it was over, and the six were 
gathered on the piazza at a spot safe from all 
overhearing, the story of Lois’s discovery was 
told, and advice was demanded. 

“If father were only here,” sighed Ruth. But 
Mr. Winslow had again sent word that his com- 
ing would be delayed. 

The boys began to praise Lois, but she would 
not listen. “I ought not to have gone out to the 
buoy when Bert could see me,” she said. “That 
is plain to me now. But I wasn’t sure of any- 
thing; I feared that if the Eagle were there, he 
might at any visit pull it up and carry it off ; and 
113 


114 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

when he was safely away, I never dreamed that 
he would come back again at once. I did n ’t think 
it out well. And so far as I can see, Bert has got 
the best of it. Everything we saw was at a dis- 
tance, and we can't prove anything against him 
— unless we can get the Eagle up again." 

Get the Eagle up again! They all looked at 
each other doubtfully. “I know the place well," 
said Howard. “It’s much too deep for us to 
swim down to the bottom." Some one else sug- 
gested the getting of a professional diver, with a 
diving suit; and the rest all objected to the ex- 
pense. 

4 ‘Besides," said Howard, gloomily, “the bot- 
tom is not covered with eel-grass there, but it ’s 
rather soft, and the Eagle may have sunk in the 
slime already." 

His gloom infected them, and they sat silent, 
unable to make any suggestion, until Mrs. Wins- 
low said with decision. “Mr. Winslow will have 
to settle it when he comes, and until then nothing 
should be said of this. Meanwhile there is no 
nicer thing for you to do than to bring word to 
Neil that you are certain of what became of the 
Eagle. Until then he is bound to feel himself 
under suspicion, and to suffer accordingly. You 


THE DREDGE 


115 


can run down to the cottage in the automobile — ” 

She stopped. “ Mother ,’ 9 said Howard, “I 
don’t want to go near the garage so long as that 
fellow Bert is about.” 

“I wish he would leave!” exclaimed Ruth. 

Mrs. Winslow was sympathetic. “It would be 
a good thing if he should quietly go away.” 

“I want him arrested!” cried Howard. 

“We must have better evidence than we have 
just now. And perhaps he is clever enough to 
know it, and so will stay, as if he were innocent. 
— Well, then, walk down to Neil’s cottage, and 
take him word.” 

“Will you come, Lois?” asked Howard. “Neil 
would like a chance to thank you.” 

“I will come,” she answered, “but not for that 
reason.” And presently they all, boys and girls, 
went down in the moonlight to Neil’s cottage. 

As they went up the garden path, he advanced 
to meet them from the chair in which he had been 
sitting before the door. “Grandfather ’s abed,” 
he said. “I wish I could have spared telling him 
this trouble of mine; it ’s rather worn him out.” 

‘ ‘ But it will be all right now, ’ ’ exclaimed Ruth, 
impulsively. She began the story, the others in- 
terrupted to correct — all but Lois and Harriet — 


116 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

until in many fragments it was all given to the at- 
tentive boy. 

His face was a study as the tale grew. From 
depression to expectation, suspense, certainty, 
delight, it changed as the story developed. With 
shining eyes at length he turned to Lois. ‘‘How 
can I ever thank you?” 

“That ’s not needed,” she said. “What I 
came down to ask is — can you get the Eagle up 
again?” 

Neil’s face fell. “I ’m afraid I thought only 
that my name was clear.” 

“I have heard you speak,” said Lois hesitat- 
ingly, “of dredging for scallops. Will the 
scallop-dredge bring up the Eagle?” 

Hope grew in Neil’s eyes as he thought out the 
problem. “The cove is pretty narrow for good 
dragging of the dredge. The bottom ’s poor. 
The depth is greater than we like. But,” and he 
brightened, “I can weight the dredge, and cer- 
tainly we can try. If you have done so much, 
certainly I ought to be able to do the rest. Will 
you give me Dick to help me to-morrow?” 

“We ’ll help you ourselves,” they all declared. 

“It ’s wet and dirty work,” he warned them. 
“I ’ll take grandfather’s cat-boat. There ought 


THE DREDGE 117 

not be more than one other with me in so small a 
boat.” 

But their interest would take no denial. They 
insisted on helping him, and parcelled out the day 
with him, an hour at a time. Lois was given the 
first hour, as her due. 

“I know I shan’t have half a chance, though I 
do come after you,” said Ruth, as they walked 
home together. 

Lois smiled, but without exultation. “I hope 
it will be as easy as you think.” 

Breakfast was set forward the next day, in 
order that none of Neil’s working time might be 
lost. Promptly at eight he was ready at the float, 
in his grandfather’s shabby little cat-boat. He 
refused to consider going in one of the racing- 
boats ; their finish would be injured by the slime 
and grit, and the constant hauling of the rope. 
Lois went with him in her bathing suit; nothing 
else would stand the wet work, and the other 
girls were to do the same. The others watched 
them start, saw the dredge heaved, and watched 
the little boat drag it across the cove. With in- 
terest they saw the dredge hauled in and in- 
spected. Then came the wave of Neil’s arm as 
he coiled the rope for another cast : failure ! The 


118 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

boat sailed back again: failure again. Across 
and across the cove the boat made its monotonous 
trips, until the attention of the watchers wan- 
dered. They sat and talked of indifferent things, 
only to be roused from them by the coming of 
Ruth’s hour for the work. 

Again they watched with interest for the first 
few times ; and sooner than before their attention 
flagged. The line dragged over the stern; the 
boat plowed its way, and luffed; the dredge was 
hauled and examined; the rope was coiled, the 
sail filled, the dredge was heaved again. Ruth 
finished her hour, and Harriet took her place, 
while still failure after failure was the only re- 
sult. Howard did his stint, Pelham followed, 
and the morning was ended without a sign of the 
trophy that they were seeking. The summer folk 
went to fresh clothes and their luncheon; Neil 
trudged to his grandfather’s to report his lack of 
success. 

“ But did you notice him? ” asked Pelham at 
luncheon. “ He did not grumble once while I 
was with him. He was as careful the last haul 
as the first. I don’t think he went home a bit dis- 
couraged. Neil intends to find the Eagle if it 
takes him the rest of the summer.” 


THE DREDGE 119 

“ And all the time,” said Howard, “it may have 
sunk in the mud.’ , 

“I’ve thought of that,” Pelham agreed. “Or 
he may even have struck it once or twice, each 
time pressing it deeper down.” 

“If patience and persistence will win,” de- 
clared Lois, “he ought to find the Eagle. He is 
combing the whole bottom of the cove ; he crosses 
each time from a new direction. I ’m sure he ’ll 
yet succeed, perhaps in my next hour.” 

But Mrs. Winslow interposed. “You girls 
have done your share; let the boys finish out the 
day. Pelham will work while Howard has his tu- 
toring; then Howard will take his turn.” And in 
spite of the girls’ protestations that they were 
quite ready to proceed with the work, she stuck to 
her decision. 

The afternoon wore slowly through. Pelham 
served his time ; Howard came from his tutoring 
and worked for the remaining two hours. Five 
o’clock came. It was with relief that Howard, a 
little past the hour, stepped out upon the float. 

“I ’m sorry, Neil,” he said. “But don’t you 
worry. We ’ll have our good luck yet.” 

“Thank you,” said Neil. But his face was 
downcast. 


120 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


Of all those who from shore watched the work, 
the most interested spectator was Bert. He was 
thoroughly frightened. When he took the Eagle 
he thought himself clever in making trouble for 
Neil; but he was startled by the cleverness of the 
girls in finding him out. In the endeavor to 
shield himself he had cast aside all idea of re- 
turning the Eagle, and had imagined himself safe 
when once the trophy was at the bottom of the 
harbor. Now they could prove nothing against 
him. But the persistence of the dredgers re- 
newed all his fears. For Bert believed that all 
crime must be followed by either escape or pun- 
ishment; and since it never occurred to him that 
there could be confession and forgiveness, he said 
to himself that if the Eagle were found he must 
quickly take himself off. As to this he was feel- 
ing safe, for the automobile could take him quickly 
to the train, when he heard the purring of the 
car as it left the garage, and knew that Ruth or 
her mother was going to the station for Mr. Wins- 
low. In alarm the man felt that his escape was 
cut off. If the Eagle were found now, all would 
be over with him. 

His dread had drawn him into the shrubbery; 
and now, impelled by his anxiety, he came out 


THE DREDGE 


121 


upon the lawn and looked down over the little 
bluff to the float, to see if Neil had really given up 
his attempt. 

Thus it was that Howard, returning wet, dirty, 
and tired from his last long stint with Neil, came 
across the man peering down over the edge of 
the lawn. The sight was too much for the hoy 
to pass quietly. 

“Interesting, Bert?” he demanded. 

The chauffeur, taken aback, could only mumble 
an answer. 

Howard waved his hand toward the harbor. 
“Neil may have failed to-day,” he was beginning, 
when his eye caught sight of Neil’s boat, once 
more starting out from the float, with a new occu- 
pant. He recognized, though at such a distance, 
Lois in her bathing suit. 

“So the day ’s not over yet,” he said. 
“Neither for Neil nor perhaps for you.” 

At the plain hint of trouble, Bert, with an angry 
snarl, rose and walked away. And Howard, with 
some satisfaction at this evidence of the man’s 
anxiety, went to get into fresh clothes. 

Now the reason for Lois’s appearance in the 
boat was as follows : The three girls had not had 
their swim as yet, and at the end of Howard’s last 


122 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


hour went down to the float to spend, with the 
boys, a half hour in the water. But they missed 
them both, for Howard had made a detonr by the 
beach, to see how Dick was getting on with the 
preparations for the race; and Pelham had seized 
his opportunity to slip away by himself. 

Ever since he had had his hand on the tiller of 
a sail-boat he had wished to be able to manage one 
entirely alone. The only test of his ability was 
to try, and he had found his chance when Howard 
was busy with Neil. The girls were at the house, 
the Hera lay temptingly idle, and Pelham, know- 
ing well that Howard would not object, had 
taken the risk. He hoisted the sails, cast off the 
mooring, and got the boat under way without 
making a mistake. Encouraged, he had tacked 
out through the channel, at every manoeuver prov- 
ing to himself that the only way to gain self-re- 
liance was to do this work without the possibility 
of help or of advice. He reached the outer har- 
bor, where the breeze at first seemed brisker, and 
now for nearly an hour he had been sailing the 
Hera on as many different tacks as he could in- 
vent. 

The girls therefore reached a deserted boat- 
house, and found at the float only Neil, prepar- 


THE DREDGE 


123 


mg, with a rueful face, to sail away home to his 
supper. The dredge lay at the stubby stern of 
his boat, the rope was neatly coiled, but they 
knew from his look of disappointment that he 
had decided that his day must end. Until now he 
had shown no discouragement, he had made every 
cast with the same careful and hopeful interest; 
but when Howard left him, and he felt that his 
work had come to nothing, his hope and his 
strength left him together. The very droop of 
his shoulders told the story. 

“It is too bad, Neil!” cried impulsive Ruth. 
“A day’s work, and nothing to show for it.” 

“Yes, Miss,” he answered simply. “Every 
time I ’ve failed I ’ve been almost certain that the 
next time I ’d succeed. I feel it just as strongly 
now. I ’d go out and try it alone, but somehow 
or other I don’t feel up to it.” 

“Somehow or other!” They knew he was 
nearly worn out. Ruth tried to console him. 
“You scarcely could do it much longer,” she 
pointed out, “because the wind is falling every 
minute. ’ ’ 

Neil glanced toward the head of the bay, where 
a great cloud hung motionless. “I know,” he 
agreed. “I rather wish Mr. Pelham would come 


124 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


inside before there ’s a chance of a storm. I sup- 
pose really I shall have scarcely enough wind to 
get to the village — and yet I should like to try 
just once more.” 

Deliberately Lois came forward and stepped 
down into the boat. “I will sail you across the 
cove and back again. If these last two trials fail, 
then we ’ll begin again to-morrow.” 

With joyful face, Neil agreed. Yet as they 
crept slowly away from the float, making a long 
reach toward the nearer edge of the cove, they 
began to wonder whether these last two attempts 
were possible. Every minute the breeze grew 
less, as if the great cloud at the head of the bay 
were absorbing into itself every wandering wind. 
Neil shook his head as he glanced toward it. 
“Perhaps that is our fourth storm.” 

Lois headed the boat across the middle of the 
cove. “This is the line, as nearly as I can re- 
member it. We shall have one last try. And per- 
haps — !” 

Neil smiled as he threw the dredge. 

Slowly and more slowly the little cat-boat went. 
When at last the dredge had passed the spot where 
success was possible, and Lois, more doubtful 
than her brave face would show, tried to luff, the 


THE DREDGE 


125 


boat had not sufficient momentum to answer the 
helm. The surface of the inner harbor was as 
smooth as glass ; and out beyond the channel the 
Hera lay becalmed. 

“The last attempt,” said Lois. “Haul the 
dredge.” 

The dripping line came in, yard by yard, as Neil 
pulled. At last, when it hung straight down, 
showing that the dredge had left the bottom, Neil 
paused and looked at Lois. “I ’m almost afraid 
to finish.” 

“There ’s always to-morrow,” the girl re- 
minded him. 

And he hauled it over the gunwale. 

Amid the mud, and stones, and shells, there was 
no appearance of the solid little trophy. Neil 
lifted to Lois a face of disappointment. But she, 
bending eagerly forward, seized upon something 
else that showed — a bit of fishline. And when, 
with renewed hope, Neil pulled upon it, out from 
the mass emerged the Golden Eagle. 

They saw it from the shore, when he rinsed and 
waved the shining trophy. Howard’s voice hailed 
lustily from his window, the girls’ with joy from 
the distant float. Neil and Lois struck hands 
upon their triumph. 


126 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“If it hadn’t been for yon — ,” he began. But 
she would not let him finish. 

“Your perseverance won it.” 

The generous competition might have lasted 
longer, had not Lois asked, “And what now?” 

For the wind had gone, the sails hung limp, and 
away at the head of the bay the great cloud was 
rising higher. “Will the storm catch us here?” 
asked Lois. 

“No,” said Neil confidently. “ A storm like 
that comes slowly and goes slowly. There will 
come enough wind before it to let us get ashore, 
and Pelham too. But I hate to wait here. If I 
had only brought oars I could row you ashore at 
once . 9 ’ 

“If it ’s only waiting,” answered Lois, “I don’t 
mind. Perhaps the girls will row out to us in 
the skiff. See, there ’s some one starting out 
now. ’ 9 

“But that ’s a man,” objected Neil. “Dick ’s 
gone home to supper, with all the other boatmen. 
Has Mr. Winslow arrived? A train was due not 
long since.” 

“The girls are on the pier,” said Lois. “I 
think they’re calling, but I 'can’t hear what they 
say. ’ 9 


THE DREDGE 


127 


Then Howard, from his window, took up the 
cry. 4 ‘He says ‘Look out!’ ” said Neil, briefly. 
“The man in the boat is Bert. And without wind 
we can’t get away from him.” 


CHAPTER IX 


AN AD- VENTURE 

I T was indeed Bert in the skiff. Before Ruth 
and Harriet, in their joy at recovering the 
Eagle, had thought of bringing Lois ashore from 
the becalmed boat, the man came striding down 
the pier, stumbled down the gangway to the float, 
and made angry by his narrow escape from a fall, 
scowled at them as he began to untie the skiff’s 
painter. 

“You ’re glad, are you?” he asked. “I ’ll show 
you something to be glad about!” He sprang 
into the skiff, sending it a dozen feet from the 
float. “Giggling sillies!” he flung at them, as he 
began to get out the oars. 

The girls were thoroughly sobered by their 
nearness to the angry man. Yet as they saw 
themselves safe, and their retreat secure, they be- 
gan to think of the two in the sail-boat. Before 
Bert had well begun rowing, they raised the cry 
of warning which Howard, hearing from his win- 
dow, successfully sent farther. 

128 


AN AD- VENTURE 


129 


As Neil gloomily watched Bert’s powerful 
strokes, which though unskilful sent the boat rap- 
idly forward, he wondered if he and Lois could 
escape by swimming. But the rowboat was too 
swift. Then looking about for other help, he saw 
that the tide was drifting his boat directly upon 
the anchored Venture. The hope that flashed 
upon him was immediately followed by doubt. 

“If only Bert has left the battery key — !” 

But though in another minute he scrambled 
aboard, and while Lois held the two boats together 
he uncovered the engine, his doubt was confirmed. 
“I can’t start the engine!” he said to Lois. 

He looked at the skiff, and in spite of his fears 
he felt a moment’s amusement. Bert, unable to 
manage well the flat-bottomed craft, had allowed 
his right hand to outrow his left, and was wide 
of the course. Looking over his shoulder he dis- 
covered his error, set his bow right, and with an 
angry growl began rowing again. In a few more 
strokes he was again going wide. 

But Neil’s amusement fled. Bert would reach 
them soon enough. The boy wished fervently for 
wind. 

Yet it was tantalizingly close at hand. In the 
outer harbor the Hera was dipping and darting 


130 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


forward, and the dark line of the approaching 
breeze was not a qnarter-mile away. Neil 
thought, of using the great oars of the Venture to 
row the little cat. But that was hopeless. His 
mind seized on one other plan. And now Bert, 
once more discovering his wild steering, again be- 
gan pointing the skiff properly. 

Then a voice, strong and deep, rang out over 
the waters of the cove. “Bert!” 

The Winslow house stood on the hillside not 
far above the cove. It was nearer than the boat- 
house, nearer than any other of the summer cot- 
tages. From it one could see clearly what was 
going on. And there on the piazza stood Mr. 
Winslow. 

4 4 Bert, ’ ’ he called. And seeing that he had the 
man’s attention, he added, 4 4 Come ashore!” 

“Stopped!” thought Neil with satisfaction. 

And indeed Bert sat motionless, looking up at 
Mr. Winslow, who stood beckoning. But if the 
chauffeur’s attitude displayed irresolution, it was 
not for long, not longer than it took him to reason 
out that to return to his employer meant dis- 
charge, disgrace, imprisonment. No one would 
believe that he had been sorry, that he was sorry 
now. Then reminding himself that his retreat 


AN AD- VENTURE 


131 


was cut off, that he must, in his expressive slang, 
‘ 4 make a getaway / ’ he shook his head and began 
rowing again. 

Lois, patiently waiting in the little cat-boat, 
asked, “What will he do?” 

“I don’t know whether he wants to thrash me 
or to get the Eagle again, ’ 9 said Neil. As the wind 
was so slow in approaching, he decided to try to 
delay the man. 

“Miss Weatherbee,” he said, “hand me up the 
Eagle.” She passed it to him. “Now work your 
boat around to the other side of the Venture , away 
from the skiff.” And while she was doing this, 
he fell rapidly to work on his own account. 

Rummaging in a locker, he pulled out a fishline 
on a stout stick. From this he unreeled a dozen 
yards of line, and knotted it to the string that 
was attached to the Eagle. Then knotting tight 
the line around the stick, and making sure that 
Bert, rowing with his back turned, could not see 
him, he tossed the stick a good distance away from 
the Venture. By means of this buoyed line he 
could recover the Eagle whenever he pleased. 

“Now,” he said to Lois, who by this time was 
waiting his next orders, “how near is the wind? 
Can we get away?” 


132 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“Not possible/ ’ she answered, “if he wants 
us.” 

Neil did not know what the man wanted. He 
would have told Lois to push off, toward the wind, 
if only he could be sure that Bert would not fol- 
low her. Delay was what he needed, delay until 
the wind should come. 

“Bert!” he shouted. “Bert!” 

Bert stopped rowing and looked over his shoul- 
der. Standing on the V enture ’s quarter, N eil held 
the Eagle high in the air. 

“You want this, don’t you?” he cried. “Well, 
you shan’t have it!” And he carefully tossed 
the shining brass away, so that it sank at some dis- 
tance from its buoy. As he did so, he felt on 
his cheek the first puff of the approaching 
breeze. 

Over in the skiff, Bert began to laugh. “You 
couldn’t please me better,” he shouted. Feeling 
in his pocket, he took out something, nodded at 
it in satisfaction, and laid it down beside him on 
the seat — some small, hard object, as Neil knew 
by the sound. 

When the next instant he knew that this must 
be the battery key, Neil understood that Bert’s 
object was to take himself off in the Venture . For 


AN AD- VENTURE 133 

Lois ’s sake lie felt relieved ; then he at once began 
to prevent the man’s escape. 

‘ 4 Come aboard,” he said hurriedly to Lois. 
“Make your boat fast, then fetch out the two gaso- 
lene cans from the cabin. ’ ’ While she obeyed, he 
reached under the counter, groped for and found 
the stopcock of the gasolene tank, and turned it 
wide open. At once the stream began pouring 
down. But Neil was not satisfied, for this waste 
would be detected the moment Bert came on board. 
He turned to disable the engine. 

But the task was not easy. To prevent either 
accident or meddling Mr. Winslow had had the 
engine partly housed in, so that what with the 
woodwork and the heavy fly-wheel the more deli- 
cate parts were well defended. Neil might have 
hesitated, so great in him was the habit of 
economy, at demolishing the carburetor, but he 
would have cut the gasolene feedpipe. Yet both, 
without a screwdriver, were inaccessible, and the 
Venture’s primitive set of tools was at the bottom 
of a box in the dusky cabin. There was no time 
to rummage for them. Neil might long for the 
few excellent tools which Bert always carried in 
his pocket; but while the lad had only his knife, 
the solid little engine could defy his endeavors. 


134 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


Then, as Lois came from the cabin, his eye fell on 
the exposed spark-plugs, and he thought of the 
wiring system. 

‘ 4 Here are the cans,” she said. 

“Take them on the other boat, and push off,” 
he said, without looking up. 

But a low cry of dismay from her brought him 
to his feet. The smaller boat was drifting away ! 
It was already twenty feet from the Venture. 

“I brought the painter,” gasped Lois. “I tied 
it to that cleat. — Why, it ’s still there ! ’ ’ And 
she pointed to where she had belayed the 
rope. 

But it was not the painter of the little fishing 
boat that Lois had brought. It was the dredge- 
rope, which she had caught up by mistake. And 
as she spoke the dredge, with the rest of its coil 
of rope, was dragged from the deck of the little 
boat and splashed into the water. Borne by the 
tide, the vessel continued to drift away. 

“What shall we do?” asked Lois. For now 
there seemed to be no chance of escaping Bert. 

“Wait a moment,” said Neil, his eyes on the 
drifting boat. He remembered that the sheet had 
been cleated nearly home; its end dragged over- 
board. The brisk wind, ruffling the water as it 


AN AD- VENTURE 


135 


came, suddenly swung out the sail and filled it. 
For a moment the boat yielded to it, and sailed 
on the starboard tack. Then it luffed and stood 
still, its sail flapping. Both Lois and Neil knew 
that by such little short tacks the boat would sail 
aimlessly about till it either grounded or fouled 
some other boat. Neil turned to the girl at his 
side. 

4 4 Quick! You must swim to it!” 

He spoke under his breath, for Bert was now 
so close that he might hear. In the same tone she 
answered him. ‘ ‘ You must come too. ’ ’ 

He shook his head. “I must make it impossi- 
ble for him to get away with this boat. He is so 
near that he will not see you swimming. Slip over 
quietly, and go. You can get aboard by means of 
the sheet that is trailing from the stern.” Seeing 
that she still would have protested, he added: 
“ You ’re wasting time. Get aboard that boat, and 
stand by to pick me up when I come.” 

He was right. The Venture , lying broadside, 
w^uld conceal Lois from Bert, but there was no 
time to lose. Besides, he spoke in the tone of a 
captain giving an order. At once Lois slipped 
over the side, and with her swift double-over- 
hand stroke began her swim to the other boat. 


136 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

Neil turned to the work that remained for him to 
do. 

Hoping that there was little gasolene left in the 
tank, Neil seized on the two cans which Lois had 
dragged to the door of the cabin, and lifted them 
to the side of the boat. There was no time to 
buoy them, and but one hope of saving them. He 
unhitched from the cleat the end of the dredge- 
rope, tied it to the handles of the cans, lowered 
them into the water, and let them go. Silently 
they sank. Perhaps, with a grapnel, he could later 
regain both them and the dredge — but there was 
no time to think of that now. He heard the swirl 
of Bert’s oar but a few yards away. Neil took 
one glance at Lois. 

With all her skill and strength she had been 
hurrying to the other boat, watching it anxiously 
as it appeared to wait for her, its sail shivering. 
Would it fall off again, and sail away? The idea 
troubled her, for though the Rhoda was at anchor 
close at hand to swim to if she wished, she was 
anxious to be able quickly to help Neil. She knew 
very well that the little fishing boat might dodge 
her all round the harbor unless fortune was with 
her. But luckily the sail did not fill again till 
Lois, with a thankful heart, laid hand on the trail- 



Lois slipped over the side and began to swim to the other boat 













































■ 




























* 


















































♦ 












































, 








. 










. 




AN AD-VENTURE 


139 


ing sheet. Neil looked up in time to see her put 
foot on the rudder, stand up, and begin to climb 
into the cockpit. 

Relieved, for one moment he thought of trying 
to stand Bert off with the boathook, but he feared 
that that might send him after Lois. So he fell 
to work, attempting to demolish the wiring of the 
engine. The brass terminals were, he knew, se- 
curely fastened to the spark-plugs; only pliers 
could loosen the grip. But with energy Neil seized 
the wires and tore them from the sockets of the 
terminals. Then, knowing that this damage could 
be repaired in but a minute, he pulled his knife 
from his pocket, opened it, and began to hack off 
the ends of the two wires, close to the woodwork. 
Once they were cut off and thrown overboard, it 
would take some time, and fresh material, to make 
the engine work. 

But he had not known that a knife could be so 
dull, or insulation so thick, or wire so tough — or 
that time could go so fast. While yet he was 
breathlessly working on the stubborn wires, he 
felt the rowboat bump against the Venture , and 
heard Bert come climbing aboard. He should 
have jumped and gone; many times he was to 
wish he had done so. Surely he had done his 


140 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


best. But he thought the wires were yielding, he 
lingered for another cut, and in that last moment 
he felt Bert’s heavy hand on his collar. 

To resist was but to invite rough handling, for 
Bert was frightened. Behind him he had seen 
Mr. Winslow and Howard putting out in a row- 
boat, and he knew he had little time to waste. 
Neil’s struggle was, therefore, suppressed with 
such force that in a moment the boy was helpless, 
and Bert stood wondering what to do with him. 
A blow on the chin had rendered Neil limp; he 
could therefore not be thrown overboard to drown. 
As to setting him adrift in the boat, Bert thought 
he might need the tender. So seeing the cabin 
door open, Bert bundled the boy inside and closed 
the door on him. Then so promptly and efficiently 
did the man set to work that in three minutes he 
had the anchor on deck, the engine running, and 
the boat under way. The escaping of the gaso- 
lene he had stopped with a single turn of his wrist. 
While still Mr. Winslow and Howard were a hun- 
dred yards away, the Venture was churning rap- 
idly toward the opening of the channel, and the 
disappointed pursuers turned back. 

Now all this time Pelham had been sailing in 
the Hera outside the channel, proving to his own 


AN AD- VENTURE 


141 


huge satisfaction how well he could handle the 
boat alone. Then the wind fell, and Pelham, 
studying the big cloud, began to wonder if he were 
in for trouble. And while thus he lay, looking 
at the harbor and wishing he were in it, he saw 
the flashing of the Eagle as Neil waved it, and 
knew that the weary dredging had been success- 
ful. 

The breeze came again, and Pelham put his bow 
toward the opening of the channel. But still 
watching what was going on within, he saw 
the pursuit of Bert, the flight of Lois, and the 
brief struggle on the Venture. As the breeze 
stiffened, Pelham, burning with indignation, 
trimmed his sheet the closer, and steered to cut 
off Bert at the exit from the channel. 

But he wondered, as the boats rapidly neared 
each other, what now? The case was not desper- 
ate enough to force a collision. He wondered if 
he had the skill to swing the Hera in the last pos- 
sible moment, 4 day her aboard’ ’ the Venture in 
the old piratical fashion, and call on Neil to help 
him overpower the chauffeur. 4 4 That is what I ’ll 
do,” decided Pelham. 

But first he wondered if he would have the 
chance, and then he saw that it would fail him. 


142 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


Bert was edging farther and farther toward the 
last buoy, making Pelham’s sail the longer. Cal- 
culating his distance, Pelham saw that he would 
reach the turning point, where Bert would be free 
to head for the open bay, just a few seconds too 
late. But he kept on. “I ’ll scare him!” he 
thought, grimly deciding to make the chauffeur’s 
escape a close one. 

And Bert was plentifully worried. He had not 
Pelham’s skill with boats; he could not, used to 
street-traffic though he was, be sure that he would 
first reach the buoy; he was afraid of a collision 
and a spill, for he could not swim. Apprehen- 
sively he eyed Pelham’s swift approach, and 
keeping as near to the edge of the channel as he 
dared, he waited for his chance to swing close 
around the buoy. It came ; he rapidly turned the 
wheel, and the buoy, swirling this way and that 
with the freshly turned tide, all but grazed the 
Venture’s side. Bert saw that he had escaped 
Pelham’s apparently reckless onset, and laughed 
as the boy turned the Hera to follow in his wake. 
The boat could never catch him. 

Then Bert started as he felt a slight quiver of 
the boat, a tremor in all her timbers. Had she 
touched bottom? Would she in another moment 


AN AD-VENTURE 


143 


stick fast? But looking astern, he saw what had 
happened. The skiff, skimming behind him on the 
end of a long painter, had fouled the swaying 
buoy ; the painter had tautened, causing the shock 
he had felt, and then it had snapped. Again Bert 
laughed in relief. The skiff would simply be 
driven ashore, unless Pelham should stop and pick 
her up. 

Pelham had no such intention. There was an- 
other half mile before Bert would leave the outer 
harbor for the bay; he might then turn in any 
southerly or northerly direction, or might head 
for Marlow, straight across the bay. In the ap- 
proaching storm the Venture might not be traced 
from land, and Pelham determined to learn where 
Bert was taking Neil. He looked at the approach- 
ing cloud, sluggishly moving southward, and said 
hopefully to himself : 

“It doesn’t look like a bad storm. I ’ll risk 
it.” 

Meanwhile Neil, in the stuffy cabin, at last came 
to himself. The blow on the jaw which Bert had 
dealt him was more skilful than powerful, and the 
lad had not been injured. But his head was still 
ringing with the jolt of the blow, and his mind was 
quite confused. Slowly he made out where he 


144 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

was, slowly he regained his energy ; but at last 
mind and body worked together, and he rose to 
his knees, determined to find out what was going 
on outside. 

On either side of the cabin was a little oval win- 
dow, and by these he quickly made out the posi- 
tion of the Venture . Through the crack of the 
door he looked astern, saw Bert at the wheel, and 
following the man's frequent glances, perceived 
the Hera in the Venture’s wake. Said Neil to 
himself, “ Pelham ought to turn back." 

Out of the starboard window he watched the 
approach of the storm. The coming of the breeze 
had been the signal of its moving; the wind was 
stiff now, and the cloud was higher ; the approach 
would steadily be faster until the storm was upon 
them. Before very long the bay would be ‘ i kick- 
ing up" its customary sea, and Neil wondered if 
Bert would really face it. But the motor con- 
tinued at what the boy recognized as its highest 
pace, without a skip or a falter. Then managing 
through the crack to catch another glimpse astern, 
he saw the Hera still following, and felt alarmed. 
Pelham had not stopped to reef, yet very soon, 
outside the headlands, he would be exposed to a 
stronger wind and a heavier sea. 


AN AD-VENTURE 


145 


More minutes, and the time had come. The 
Venture was rolling and plunging, and, behind, 
the Hera was beginning its pitching. The head- 
lands were astern. But in vain Neil watched for 
Pelham, now a quarter of a mile in the rear, to 
turn back or to luff and reef. “He can do noth- 
ing now,” he muttered anxiously. 4 4 Why does he 
keep on?” 

Pelham, doggedly following, was putting the 
same question to himself. He was sure now that 
Bert was heading for Marlow. All that kept the 
boy on his course was pure obstinacy. He must, 
he would, turn back — presently. 

Then to NeiPs mind, now thoroughly clear, and 
quickened by anxiety, came an idea. He could 
stop this flight and chase, perhaps he could even 
capture Bert, and bring him ignominiously into 
port. For the Venture’s motor got its spark 
solely from a battery, and for dryness’ sake the 
cells were kept in the cabin! In a moment, knife 
in hand, he had found the battery and was hack- 
ing at the wires. 

The motor coughed, and wheezed, and became 
silent. The vibration of the boat ceased. Neil 
heard Bert swear. Then, when the heavy foot- 
step approached, and the hasp of the door rat- 


146 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


tied, Neil crouched in the nearest, darkest corner, 
and prepared himself for what he hoped would 
follow. 

The cabin door had no lock; it was secured from 
outside, with a hasp and a peg. Bert would prob- 
ably keep the peg in his hand; so Neil held his 
clasped pocket knife, which was about the same 
size. 

Bert came. Growling to himself, he yanked 
open the door; the man’s bulk filled the opening, 
then the light came again as the man crawled in, 
feeling to right and left. But Neil, shrunk in his 
corner, first escaped him, and then seized his 
chance. The man’s feet passed the opening — and 
the boy nimbly slipped out. He heard Bert’s roar 
of anger. Neil slammed the door to, looped the 
hasp over the staple, and thrust in his knife. To 
his relief it passed through the loop of the staple. 

In fact it passed almost too far. The peg had 
tapered, the knife did not; there was a chance that 
it might drop entirely through. Neil hesitated. 
But when he heard Bert strike twice on the door, 
and saw the fastening hold, he darted forward, to 
make the Venture secure, whatever else might 
happen. 

The anchor lay where Bert had dropped it ; its 


AN AD- VENTURE 


147 


rope trailed over the house and the deck. Neil 
lifted the anchor and cast it overboard. He knew 
the soundings: the depth was greater here than 
in the harbor, and the anchor would not reach 
bottom. But that was nothing. In a few minutes, 
when he was sure that Bert was secure, he would 
let out more rope; or if he did not, the Venture 
would not drift two miles to leeward without com- 
ing into shoaler water, where the anchor would 
hold. .He knew both anchor and rope : they would 
keep the Venture through any storm. And so, 
feeling that he had done his duty by his employer, 
Neil turned again to make sure that the hasp 
w T ould hold the cabin door. 

Too late! For as he stood on the top of the 
house, about to step down into the cockpit, he 
heard the sharp rap of the falling knife, and saw 
the door burst open. Bert, furiously roaring, 
came scrambling out. 

Neil had no weapon. The short boathook was 
in its slings under the seat of the cockpit, and 
there was nothing else with which he could de- 
fend himself. 4 ‘ Bert ! ’ ’ he cried, hoping to soothe 
the man. 

But Bert had been tricked, and he had bumped 
his head, two very good reasons for making him 


148 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


wish to take vengeance on the causer of these 
things. “Now I ’ve got you!” he cried, and 
sprang at the boy. 

Neil dodged him, leaping over the boom to the 
other side of the boat. Clumsily, but eagerly, Bert 
followed. Neil led him aft, where there was more 
room for dodging, but where he could not hope 
for time to secure the boathook. Around the stern 
Neil led the man; he wished, too late, that he had 
thought of retreating out upon the boom. For- 
ward, over the boom again, under it just in time 
to escape Bert’s long arms — and every moment 
Bert was more exasperated at Neil’s spry adroit- 
ness. Then Neil concluded that on board the Ven- 
ture was no place for him. As Bert, raging, 
reached down for the boathook, the boy saw that 
there was only one thing for him to do — swim for 
it. He turned and waved his arms aloft to the 
Hera , in the hope of attracting Pelham’s atten- 
tion. Bert saw his purpose, and sprang for him, 
but too late. When the clutching hands were al- 
most on him, Neil dove cleanly into the tossing 
water. 


CHAPTER X 


HEN AND CHICKENS 

N EIL felt no fear as he rose for his long swim. 

Even if Pelham, not seeing him, should now 
turn back, the boy believed that he could reach 
shore. True, he was well outside the nearer 
point; but given fifteen minutes before the storm 
should break, he thought he could get near enough 
to keep his bearings in spite of the rain, and to 
land in the lee of the point. The water was warm, 
and he knew that he could last for hours. So, 
shaking the water from his eyes, he found the di- 
rection of the point, and struck out for it. 

Then he thought he heard a cry behind him. 
Was Bert calling? But the cry was muffled, chok- 
ing. Neil looked back. 

The Venture was drifting with its head to the 
wind. Bert had headed her so when the motor 
failed, and now the anchor, acting as a drag, was 
keeping the boat in about the same position. As 
Neil looked the big cat-boat rolled, so that he saw 
both her deck and the cockpit. And Bert was not 
visible. Well, he was in the cabin, mending the 

149 


150 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

wires. The boy, knowing that his time was short, 
struck out again for the point. But again came 
the cry. 

Again he looked back. Still deck and cockpit 
had no occupant. 

And then the boy saw, lifted upon a wave be- 
tween him and the boat, a head and thrashing arms. 
The cry was frantic. “Help!” 

Bert, reaching too eagerly after Neil, had lost 
his balance at a lurch of the boat, and plunged 
overboard. He had risen to the surface, clawed 
in vain at the Venture’s smooth high sides, and by 
a wave had been drawm away from her. His heart 
beat furiously; he forgot what little he had ever 
known of swimming, and in a panic he tried, and 
continued to try, to lift his shoulders out of the 
water. He called for help; his only hope was in 
the boy whom but a minute ago he was so angrily 
trying to seize. Fear and his unskilful efforts 
brought exhaustion almost at once ; then when in 
spite of himself he tried to rest, the dreadful water 
rose and filled his mouth, his nose. Distracted, he 
beat his way to the surface again, and spluttered 
forth his call. Then, utterly weary, he felt him- 
self again going down. The water rose above his 
nose, his eyes, but he was powerless to fight. 


HEN AND CHICKENS 


151 


Then he felt two hands placed from behind 
under his armpits, and his head was drawn above 
water. He breathed the blessed air. Neil’s voice 
said, “Take it easy, now! Don’t struggle.’ ’ 

Bert had but one instinct — to breathe ! Cough- 
ing, he cleared his windpipe, gasped, drew his 
lungs full. Oh, the relief of it! 

Neil spoke again. “Just let yourself go. You 
can’t lift yourself. See, we ’re all right, even if 
some waves do go over us.” 

Though Bert’s confused mind vaguely heard, 
all he could think of was the dreaded water. As 
he drew a breath a wave rose suddenly, tilling his 
nose and throat. He choked, coughed, and man- 
aged to breathe again. Terror was seizing him 
once more. 

Neil was suspicious of him. “Don’t try to turn. 
It will do you no good. If you struggle I ’ll have 
to leave you.” 

“I ’ve breathed water,” groaned Bert. 

“Breathe through your mouth, then,” returned 
Neil. “It ’s the only way in rough water. Take 
it easy, now. It will be minutes yet before Pel- 
ham is here, but there ’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

He knew better. Bert was a heavy weight for 
him, especially since he must be kept at arm’s 


152 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


length, for fear of an attempt to turn. Neil was 
tiring from the effort. 

As for Bert, the thought of waiting minutes 
more made him frantic. He forgot everything but 
his fear, and tried to turn. That instant his sup- 
port left him, and he went down — down ! 

Neil, his weary arms relieved of their burden, 
cast an anxious glance for Pelham’s sail, then 
staunchly waited for Bert’s head to appear 
again. 

Meanwhile Pelham was sailing with his best 
skill. Just at the moment when he had decided 
to turn back, he had seen the Venture point her 
bows into the wind, had watched the chase around 
the deck, and had seen Neil dive and Bert fall. 
Now he was aching to hurry his boat and reach 
them. But a quarter-mile is not quickly covered, 
even when scudding under such a wind as, every 
moment increasing, was driving the Hera . The 
drifting Venture was his mark; he reasoned that 
in the heavy wind she must be traveling faster 
than the two in the water, whom he must look for 
somewhat to windward of her. Rising on a wave, 
he thought he saw their heads. There came a 
sudden slant of rain, that for a moment obscured 
everything. When it lifted, Pelham, search the 


HEN AND CHICKENS 


153 


tossing waters as he might, could not again find 
them. How dark the sky had grown! Pelham 
gave little heed to the boat or his sailing, did not 
even realize that every gust beat the Hera lower, 
as he desperately scanned the ever-shifting sur- 
face. Minutes had passed. Had the two gone 
under? 

There came a hail from port. “Pelham! 
Pelham !” 

Pelham now saw, to leeward, the two tossing 
heads. The Venture had drifted farther from 
them than he had expected; without the hail he 
never should have found them. He swung the 
boat about, tacked down beyond the pair, and pre- 
pared to luff up to them. So intent was he on this 
task that he paid no attention to the weather until 
the chill of a driving wind, the smart blows of rain- 
drops, the staggering of the boat, brought his heart 
into his mouth. Could he do it? 

He looked up to see the black squall come driv- 
ing across the water not a hundred yards away. 
There was foam across the line of its forefoot, 
darkness was above it, a power of wind and rain 
was within it. He glanced with sickening spirit 
at his great spread of canvas, set his teeth, and 
found again the two in the water. He would — he 


154 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


must reach them on the first attempt ! The storm 
would give him no chance for a second. 

He held to his course, kept on and on, won- 
dered if he were not too near and would override 
them, if he were not too fatally far to reach them 
at all. He dreaded; he hoped; he told himself 
that if he missed them by a yard he missed them 
forever; he set his jaw, held on his course a little 
further, then threw himself against the tiller and 
brought the Hera into the wind. He was aiming 
directly at the castaways. 

Then he remembered that he had not counted 
on the strength of the coming wind. If it reached 
him first, it would stop him dead. 

How slowly the Hera surged toward the floating 
heads! Pelham abandoned the tiller, caught the 
boathook, and rushed to the bow. He leaned far 
out, holding by the jib-stay, reaching forward with 
his hook. Three rods, two rods, — and the boiling 
forefoot of the squall was close at hand. Des- 
perately he tried to stretch the boathook further. 
The Hera rode on. 

Neil, lifting up his hand, seized the boathook’s 
head! 

The sudden beating of the rain, the blowing 
spray, the rushing of the wind as the squall broke, 


HEN AND CHICKENS 


155 


were nothing to Pelham now. With careful haste 
he drew the floating pair ^alongside. While Neil 
climbed aboard, Pelham held Bert. The man’s 
head was hanging low, his mouth almost in the 
water; he seemed stupid, nearly unconscious. 
Hurriedly the two boys dragged him aboard and 
laid him in the cockpit. Then Neil leaped to the 
halliards, to slacken them. But the boat, of her 
own accord falling off on a new tack, suddenly 
heeled. As suddenly there was a snapping from 
aloft. 

‘ ‘ Pelham! Heads!” 

There was a rushing of canvas, a rattling of 
blocks, a downward sweep of the high end of the 
gaff. And Neil, looking aloft, sighed his relief 
as the boat righted. 

“Peak halliards parted,” he called to Pelham. 
“Best thing that could have happened. Now 
we ’re as good as reefed.” And he took the helm. 

With hanging peak that much reduced the 
spread of sail, the Hera began to beat back to the 
harbor. Bert, lying crouched, now moaned and 
muttered. “I ’m glad to hear that,” said Neil. 
“Once I thought he was drowned. I tell you it 
was work to hold him up, even though I knew he 
was too far gone to fight me. — There ’s the light- 


156 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

house buoy. ” And Neil laid the boat on the other 
tack. 

“How dark the afternoon is!’’ Pelham inno- 
cently said. 

‘ ‘ How late it is, ’ ’ corrected N eil. ‘ ‘ You have n ’t 
yet got used to the quick passing of time on the 
water. Look at your watch. Mine must have 
stopped. ’ 9 

It was after seven o’clock, as Pelham found. 
Having no oilskins, the rain had drenched him 
through; yet it had not entered his watch. The 
knowledge of the time made him think of supper. 
Well, they would be at their moorings in another 
half hour. But how the wind did blow ! 

Neil called to him again. “This will be an all- 
night storm, I think. The wind is stiffer every 
minute. I don’t like to tack in through the chan- 
nel with this swinging gaff, so I ’m going to jibe 
through Hen and Chickens. The tide is still low 
enough to show us every rock, even though it ’s 
dusk ; and we ’ll have to swing the boom over but 
once. ’ ’ 

Pelham grinned his interest; he had not sup- 
posed that any one would try the trick in such 
weather. Heavier gusts of rain were coming, 
blotting out the shores; but he trusted Neil to 


HEN AND CHICKENS 


157 


see his way among the rocks. Pelham took the 
end of the sheet, ready to haul in when ordered. 
At his feet Bert writhed and groaned ; he had not 
yet come to himself. But the lad knew there was 
nothing to do for him till they were ashore. 

At last Pelham saw, dead ahead, the threatening 
bulk of the old Hen, while the Chickens were gath- 
ered thickly round. He looked at Neil a little 
nervously, but the helmsman showed no uneas- 
iness. More than once he had made the passage 
in winter winds as bad as this ; he was simply cal- 
culating his distance, and his hand on the tiller 
was perfectly steady. It was only with his swing- 
ing gaff that he had any concern. He looked up 
at it, then lowered his eyes to judge his distance 
from the rock, just as the Hera drove by the outer- 
most of the Chickens. Pelham saw the waves boil- 
ing around it. He turned his head again, ready 
for an order from Neil, just in time to see Bert, 
evidently not yet clear-headed, stagger to his feet. 

‘ 4 What? What?” the man muttered thickly. 
“ Where going?” 

4 4 Down! Down!” cried Neil sharply, himself 
beginning to pull in the sail. “I We got to jibe. 
Pelham, pull him down!” 

But at the first grapple the man threw off the 


158 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


boy. Bert lurched toward Neil. “The rocks, 
boy ! The rocks ! Turn back ! ’ 9 

And as Neil was thrusting with all his force 
against the tiller, to make the critical turn, the 
bewildered man put out his heavy hand and op- 
posed him. In vain both boys shouted and strug- 
gled. The Hera kept exactly on her course, and 
crashed into the great rock. 

The wreckage was instant and complete. The 
stays snapped, the mast toppled, the sail seemed 
to pour down and engulf them all. Pelham, put- 
ting up his arm to guard his head, felt a stagger- 
ing blow on his elbow just as the wet and heavy 
canvas enveloped him ; he was beaten to his knees, 
and knew that Bert was sprawling beneath him. 
He tried to raise his arm again and throw off the 
sail, and the sharp pain made him almost faint. 
Then he heard NeiPs cry. 

‘ ‘ Her bow 9 a stove in ! We ’re sinking ! 9 9 

Regardless of his pain, the boy wriggled out 
from under the canvas. Water was pouring over 
the stern; the Hera was slipping backward from 
the rock. Then for a moment she righted and 
floated free. Next, and quicker than he would 
have believed possible, the boat began to settle 
by the head, and a little wave washed right out 


HEN AND CHICKENS 


159 


through the cabin and into the cockpit. At the 
sight of it, both boys began to grope for Bert, still 
under the sail. By a wrist and his collar they 
dragged him out. The man was scarcely able to 
help himself. 

“We must get him to the rock!” 

How it was done Pelham never could clearly re- 
member. The distance to the rock was widening; 
they could only jump and scramble and flounder. 
Pelham’s left arm was quite useless. Once more 
they were soused to the chin in water, but they 
managed to climb upon the wet and slippery dome. 
And there, clinging to the rusty spindle, their feet 
and knees in the water, the three miserably sat. 
At a little distance remained all that was visible of 
the Hera , some five feet of her mast. 

Neil turned to Pelham. “Are you all right?” 

“My arm is broken, I think. That ’s why I 
couldn’t help you better.” 

They looked at Bert, who sat between them. To 
each of the boys it was plain that the renewed wet- 
ting had brought him to himself. His gloomy eye, 
as he sat and stared sullenly in the face of the 
storm, his resentful shiver, as a wave rose to his 
waist, his angry clutching at the spindle to keep 
his place, all showed that he understood his posi- 


160 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


tion. He leaned, too, somewhat against Neil, in 
unwilling acknowledgment of weakness. But not 
a word did he say to the boys, no counsel did he 
offer, no encouragement did he give. 

“Well, Neil,’’ cried Pelham cheerily, calling 
across the wind, “it looks as if we were up against 
it. How are we to get ashore ?” 

Neil shook his head. Get ashore? It was im- 
possible for the three without help. And as to 
help, he ver> much doubted whether, in the dusk 
and the rain, any one had seen them from the 
shore. And the tide was higher, and the sea 
angrier, every minute. The real question was, 
how long could the three hold out? Bert’s 
strength he could judge by the weight that leaned 
against him. And Pelham, to Neil’s eye, looked 
pretty shaky. A wave slapped heavily against 
him, and he winced, trying to protect his arm. 

“I must get in front of you,” said Neil with de- 
cision. He scrambled across Bert, and placed 
himself before Pelham, to take the blow of the 
next wave. The two thus sat on a ridge of rock 
as on a saddle, with Neil’s legs locked around the 
rod of the spindle. “Move closer, Pelham,” di- 
rected Neil, “and grip me with your knees.” 
Then Neil crooked his arm in Bert’s, and again 


HEN AND CHICKENS 161 

seized the spindle-rod. Thus aiding both his com- 
panions, Neil felt a moment’s satisfaction. 

Every minute the waves, striking against the 
rock, threw their spray over the three. The rain 
poured down, the wind drove. And the tide was 
rising. It passed their knees, neared their hips. 
The larger waves swept heavily across the rock, 
lifting the three unfortunates at each sweep. 
Grimly they stood it for a long time in silence, 
until at last Pelham bravely said, 

“Neil, you ’d better swim for it.” 

Of course Neil had thought of the chances of 
his reaching shore and bringing help. He knew 
that he could do it. But how long would either 
Pelham or Bert last while clinging to the spindle 
alone? How far could either swim when washed 
off the rock? Neil merely said, 

“I guess we can stick it out till the tide 
falls.” 

He knew it would be more than four hours be- 
fore the falling of the tide could bring them any 
relief. 

Bert, if he had an unselfish thought for the two 
boys, said nothing. The three remained silent. 
After a while the rain ceased, rifts showed in the 
clouds, a gleam of moonlight came. But for all 


162 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


that, the wind blew as hard as ever, and the waves 
steadily mounted higher. Pelham said, 

“Even in the moonlight, no one can see us from 
shore. If we could only make a light ! ’ ’ 

He laughed at his own wish; nothing seemed 
more impossible. But after a moment’s silence 
Neil asked, “Pelham, did you put that flashlight 
back on the shelf in the cabin?” 

For a moment Pelham could not collect his 
thoughts. What flashlight? What cabin? Then 
he remembered. “Yes. I crawled way in with 
the aeroplane and left it in safety. On my way 
out I put the light in the box.” For the shelf 
was a box, to keep the articles from rolling off. 

“Then,” asked Neil, “can you two stay here 
without me for a few minutes? I ’m going down 
to get that light. ’ ’ 

“You can’t!” cried Pelham. 

And truly it seemed impossible in the dark, the 
pounding waves, the depth of the water. 

But Neil was ready with his answer. “It can 
be done. There is the mast in plain view. I can 
go down it, feel my way to the cabin, put my arm 
in, and find the box.” 

Pelham protested. “But the sail will be in the 
way, and all that tangle of rigging!” 


HEN AND CHICKENS 


163 


Neil’s reply was unanswerable. “If we don’t 
find some means to signal we shall simply sit here 
till we fall from exhaustion. — Can you stay a 
while without me!” 

“I can,” said Pelham. And Bert, appealed to 
likewise, said that he could. 

Neil unhooked his arm from Bert’s, and Pel- 
ham released the clasp of his knees. Slowly and 
stiffly Neil took position for a dive. His hand 
still on the spindle, his feet only too unsteadily 
braced against the rock, he watched till the water 
fell away. Then with a clumsy but effective 
plunge he hurled himself downward, aiming di- 
rectly below the top of the mast which showed 
some twelve feet away. The wave rose again, and 
Neil was lost to sight. 

Pelham forgot that it was hard to keep his place ; 
he did not notice that the wave, buffeting his un- 
protected arm, wrenched it severely. All he 
knew was that down in the water Neil was grop- 
ing in the wreckage, every instant in danger of 
being tangled in the ropes or caught beneath the 
sail. In imagination he was there too, thrusting 
aside the obstacles, holding back the mass of 
tackle which was so ready to trap the venture- 
some boy. He had no thought of what might 


164 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


happen to himself if Neil failed to return; he only 
knew that the time grew longer and longer until 
it seemed impossible that any one could yet es- 
cape. In despair he looked at Bert, only to see 
him gazing horrified down into the water. An- 
other great wave rose ; the two instinctively 
clutched the spindle tighter ; and Pelham felt that 
at the same time he was engulfed by hopelessness. 
But then something came tumbling against his 
feet, a hand clutched his leg, was shifted higher to 
his belt, and as the wave receded there was the 
dripping Neil, gasping for breath. 

“ Lucky thing, ’ ’ he panted. 1 4 Meant to have 
come up the mast, but missed it, and the wave 
rolled me here. — And I Ve got it. See!” 

In his hand he held the little glittering flash- 
light, while without loss of time he shifted his 
grip to the spindle, and braced himself securely. 
Lifting the lamp, he flashed it toward the shore, 
waved it up and down, in a circle, then across ; cut 
off the light, put it on, and then with the dots and 
dashes of the signalling code began to spell a mes- 
sage. “But I was so afraid the battery would 
have run out,” he cried with relief. “It was 
pretty old, and the water of course has been weak- 
ening it.” He spelled the message successfully 



The valiant little lamp sent out its light with undiminished 

brightness 
















































. 





• 

• 







“ 





























































































HEN AND CHICKENS 


167 


through, spelled it again, then tried a longer one, 
and still, after minutes had passed, the valiant 
little lamp sent out its light with undiminished 
brightness. 

“Perhaps no one will be able to read it,” said 
Pelham. 

“Even then,” replied Neil, “the coming and 
going of the light ought to have a meaning for 
any one that sees it. And by this time perhaps 
it ’s been seen. I Ve surely been five minutes at 
it.” 

“The light is fading,” said Pelham suddenly. 

Neil began to signal faster. But when once the 
current had begun to fail, it went rapidly. In 
less than another minute it had gone almost com- 
pletely; and when Neil lowered the lamp and 
looked at the bulb, he saw only a faint red glow 
in its tiny wire. 

Unconquerably hopeful, he said, “If I could 
dry it out and let it rest — ” 

Of his own accord Bert opened his lips. He 
laughed harshly. ‘ 4 Dry it here ? And in an hour 
you could get a few more flashes. Meanwhile this 
rusty iron will break. It ’s bending already.” 


CHAPTER XI 


WHAT GIBLS CAN DO 

M R. WINSLOW and Howard, baffled by Bert’s 
flight, rowed to the float about the time that 
Lois arrived there in the little fishing-boat. The 
girl was very much cast down. “Neil made me 
leave him,” she said. “Now Bert is carrying 
him off. I ought not to have come away.” 

“You did perfectly right,” declared Mr. Win- 
slow. “Tell me what Neil was doing on board 
when you left.” 

They talked the matter over as they returned 
to the house, and made a pretty good guess as to 
Bert’s reason for carrying Neil away. With the 
glasses they watched the boat till it was hidden 
from sight by the wooded point. What Bert 
would do on reaching the bay could not be seen. 
Mr. Winslow decided how he must act. 

“Pelham is foolhardy if he follows long,” he 
said. “I think we can depend on him to turn 
back before the storm. As for Bert, he ’ll surely 
168 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 169 

make for some point across the hay. I ’m going 
around in the car and cut him off . ’ ’ 

“I ’ll go too,” offered Howard. 

His father shook his head. “You must stay 
here. — I wish we had a telephone here on the hill ; 
it would be of use now. It was foolish of us city 
folks to object to the looks of poles and wires, 
and I ’ll never spend another summer here with- 
out one. Howard, help me put up the top of the 
car. ’ ’ 

It was not many minutes before Mr. Winslow, 
under the shelter of the motor-top and windshield, 
and wearing his waterproof, set off in the face of 
the approaching storm. ‘ ‘ I shall stop at the post- 
office,” he said, “and will telephone across the hay 
to have people watching for the Venture. You, 
Howard, must go down to the point at once, and 
see if you can make out for what point Bert is 
heading. Then go to the post-office and wait till 
I call up.” So he was off, and Howard went hur- 
rying to the point past which Bert was now flee- 
ing. 

While Mrs. Winslow was with Lois in the house, 
helping her change her clothes, and soothing her 
with repeated declarations that she could have 
done no more for Neil, Ruth and Harriet remained 


170 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


watching on the lawn. “If only there were a good 
swift motor-boat in the harbor !” sighed Rnth. 
“All we have here are merely motor-cats, and the 
Venture is fastest of them all.” 

Harriet conld make no response. Her eyes were 
on the distant water. The Venture had disap- 
peared behind the point, but for a little while 
longer she could see the Hera , in which her 
brother was gallantly risking the storm, in his at- 
tempt to be of use to Neil. 

There, he too was gone from sight behind the 
point. 

Harriet winked back her tears. Pelham was 
not foolhardy; he was brave, and she would be 
worthy of him. 

A miserable time of waiting followed. The 
slow approach of the storm brought early dusk, 
turning almost to darkness when the storm broke. 
The girls went to the house, Lois and Mrs. Win- 
slow came downstairs, and all of them watched at 
the windows. The servants offered supper, and 
Mrs. Winslow made the girls eat a little, but it 
was with difficulty. Then footsteps were heard 
on the piazza, and Howard, in his oilskins, came 
in. He was streaming with water, but he brought 
no news. “Both boats were heading for Marlow, 


171 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 

that ’s all I can say,” he explained. "Pelham 
was scarcely beyond the point; I can’t think he ’d 
go much farther. But the rain came down and 
blotted them ont, and so I came back.” He gath- 
ered a handful of cookies from the table. "Too 
bad, Harriet. I ’m awful sorry, Lois. — Now I ’m 
off for the village.” And munching, he de- 
parted. 

"Boys are like that,” said Mrs. Winslow. 
"But he really is sorry. And he ’d work all 
night, on just those five cookies, to do anything 
at all for Pelham or Neil.” 

The dreary waiting recommenced. For an hour 
the rain drove steadily ; then it slowly ceased, and 
gleams of moonlight showed through the breaking 
clouds. But the water was dark, now, and neither 
from the harbor nor from the road came any one 
with news. The four watchers wondered, each to 
herself, if the Hera had weathered the storm; 
there was more danger to her than to the Venture . 
But no one could tell. 

The rain had ceased for some time, and the fit- 
ful moon was shining more frequently, when Lois 
suddenly took her sweater from the hall settle. 
"I must go out,” she said. "I can’t bear it in 
the house another minute.” She opened the door 


172 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

to the piazza, then turned and looked at the others 
appealingly. 

Harriet was already donning her sweater; Kuth 
was looking at her mother for permission. “Go, 
dear,” said Mrs. Winslow. “I will be just in- 
side here, and will let you know when Howard 
comes. Call me if you see or hear anything.” 
And she opened the window in order the better to 
listen. 

On the wide strip of gravel that bordered the 
upper edge of the lawn the three girls walked up 
and down. From time to time they scanned the 
water; then they listened for footsteps or wheels 
on the road. Nothing was heard on the land 
side ; from the water came the fierce gusts of the 
steadily strengthening wind. Clouds constantly 
swept over the moon ; the harbor showed dim bulks 
of yachts, the faint white tops of leaping waves, 
and a murky distance into which everything faded. 
Once the three girls, as by one impulse, stopped 
at the turn and gazed out on the water. 

The memory of a picture came to Harriet, of 
three fisher-women on a headland, looking out to 
sea. It was associated in her mind with Kings- 
ley’s poem, the “Three Fishers.” Was the rest 
of the story to be the same? 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 


173 


“They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, 
And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown. 

But men must work, and women must weep, 

Though storms be sudden, and waters deep, 

And the harbor bar be moaning. 

“Three corpses lay on the shining sands — ” 

Harriet choked, then she coughed to cover it, 
and once more she winked back her tears. Girls 
sometimes had to wait and suffer these things. 
Oh, would nobody bring them news? 

She turned away, drawing Ruth with her; but 
Lois stopped them. ‘ 4 What is that light on the 
water?” 

They looked. A tiny spot of light, well out be- 
yond the yachts, circled and danced, disappeared 
and came again, began to wink at longer and 
shorter intervals. 

“It *s a signal!” cried Lois. 

“It ’s the Morse alphabet,” agreed Harriet. 
“I can make out the dots and dashes.” 

“Read it!” begged Ruth. “I do not know it.” 

“Nor I,” said Lois. 

“And I ’m so out of practice!” cried Harriet. 
For a time she strained her eyes at the light, be- 
fore she slowly began to read. “C — K — E — oh, 


174 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

I missed one — another — S — E. It goes so fast, 
I Ve missed a lot. N— S— W— R, I think it was 
R. What can it mean? Oh, it ’s going out!” 

In truth the light grew weaker and weaker, then 
faded away. “What could it have been?” asked 
wondering Ruth. 

Lois caught her breath so convulsively that the 
others looked at her in alarm. 4 6 They are wrecked 
out there!” 

“But where?” demanded Ruth. 

“On Hen and Chickens. There is nothing else 
in that direction.” 

The others knew it must be so. With the same 
impulse they started for the house, and gasped out 
the news to Mrs. Winslow. Then they stood for 
some helpless seconds, staring at one another, be- 
fore Lois asked, “Where are the nearest men?” 

“There are none nearer than the village,” an- 
swered Mrs. Winslow. “All the men and boys 
of our little summer settlement are either in the 
city or away cruising. — Oh, for a telephone!” 
She thought for a minute, then spoke with de- 
cision. “Ruth, come with me and collect boat- 
men to go in one of the motor cat-boats to the 
rock.” They snatched up scarves and jackets, 
and in a moment were gone. 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 


175 


Lois had stood still, a hand on Harriet’s arm. 
Harriet had made a movement to go with them, 
but Lois’ grip tightened, and when Harriet looked 
at her, she shook her head. “Harriet,” she said, 
when the two had gone, “they must run to the 
village, and find men, and get the boat started. 
That will take half an hour, and fifteen minutes 
more are needed to come from the inner cove. I 
can get to the rock in fifteen minutes myself — in 
less time! Come and help me start!” 

Without waiting for an answer she hurried out 
of the house, and down the path that led to the 
boathouse. Harriet was close on her heels. 
Through the dark shrubbery they darted, where 
the bushes arched over their heads ; down the hill- 
side they plunged; and reaching the level of the 
beach they ran past the silent boathouse, and out 
upon the narrow planking of the little pier. 

The tide was very high ; it was breaking angrily 
on the beach, and close beneath the planks it was 
slapping on the posts. The shadows were very 
black, the moonlight on the water was uncannily 
pale. As the girls ran out to the float they heard 
the waves choking, gurgling, buffeting without 
ceasing. The chains were groaning, the gang- 
plank creaking. The float was almost at the level 


176 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


of the pier, and the gang-plank scarcely dipped to 
reach it. Waves were breaking over the outer 
end of the float; spray was flung the whole 
length of it. It was slippery with standing water, 
and rocked restlessly from side to side. 

At the inner end of the float was tied Neil’s 
little fishing boat. Its sail was lying almost loose 
on the deck and in the cockpit, where Lois had 
dropped and left it, after tying a few gaskets 
around its middle. The wind flapped the loose 
canvas, the boat tossed heavily; but she had been 
well tied, and rode free of float and pier. Lois 
darted round the end of the gangway, pulled the 
boat in, and stepped aboard. Harriet was close 
behind. 

Not a word was said. Harriet cast off the gas- 
kets when Lois was already feeling for the reef- 
points. The reef was laid and tied; there was 
this time no difficulty with the short boom that, 
made for rough weather, extended only arm’s 
length beyond the square stern. Lois thrust down 
the center-board. Harriet loosed the sheet, Lois 
sprang to the halliards, and together they hauled 
up the reefed sail, and made the halliards fast. 
Then when Lois took the tiller and gathered in the 
sheet, Harriet pulled the boat to the float, stepped 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 


177 


out, and untied the painter that held her. Hold- 
ing the boat by the wire stay that ran down from 
the masthead, she threw the painter into the long 
cockpit that extended almost to the bow, and led 
the boat to the float’s corner. A wave ran the 
whole length of the float, and rose above her 
ankles. 

“Push off!” cried Lois. “ Harriet, good- 
by!” 

Harriet pushed the bow of the boat away from 
the float. She felt the little cat-boat begin to heel 
as the wind filled the sail. But she did not let 
go the stay. Instead, pushing hard for the last 
time, she clung to the wire, and stepped lightly 
aboard the boat. 

“Harriet!” cried Lois, in remonstrance. 

Harriet stepped carefully down into the cock- 
pit. She came close to Lois in order to make her- 
self heard. “Don’t you know you need me?” she 
asked. “One of the boys must be hurt, or else 
they would have swum to shore. I shall be needed 
to get him aboard.” 

She went forward and began to coil the hal- 
liards. But abandoning the work almost as soon 
as she had begun it, she came back to Lois’s side. 
“Besides,” she said, almost indignantly, “my 


178 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


brother is there. Do you think I ’d let you go 
without me ? ’ ’ 

She went back to her work. 

When it was finished, and she was again at 
Lois’s side, she had time to realize the difficulty 
of their position. The wind drove into the har- 
bor directly through its entrance ; there was there- 
fore a rare chance for the making of great waves. 
They swept in furiously, snapping off their tops, 
throwing their spray many yards. Already both 
the girls were wet through their sweaters, and 
their skirts were clinging to them. Lois had laid 
the course to the left of the cluster of yachts 
that were jumping and tugging at their moor- 
ings; they jerked their masts in all directions, 
rattled their chains, creaked their ropes, and 
racketed with their tackle. And ever the black 
waves leaped around them, breaking into silvery 
foam. 

“ About!” cried Lois. The little cat-boat spun 
on her heel, slung her sail across, bent low to the 
wind, and slammed her bow through a roller that 
threw a sheet of water high. Lois shook her hair 
clear of the spray. 

“Oh!” she cried, “can any one stay on the 
rock against such waves?” 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 179 

Harriet answered, ‘ 4 They must have been there 
ten minutes ago.” 

Lois shut her teeth on her lower lip, and held 
on her course. In the changing light her many 
years of training came to her help in a manner 
that almost surprised herself, for she needed only 
the feel of the tiller in her hand, of the planks be- 
neath her feet, to be as sure as in the day how 
the sturdy boat was holding herself. And feel- 
ing confident, Lois let her eyes rove over the 
water as she watched for the moment to tack 
again. 

“Oh!” she murmured. “Oh, for that shadow 
to pass!” 

The shadow was moving; it engulfed the boat. 
The breaking whitecaps now were dimmer; the 
hollows of the waves, on the other hand, were 
clearer now, and showed the ripples and cross- 
currents that stirred in them. But over the waves 
the distance was all murk ; Harriet, peering, could 
not guess how Lois was to find guide or bearing 
in her hunt for the invisible rock. 

“About!” cried Lois again. And again she 
swung the boat. 

All was dimness, and flying spray, the strain- 
ing of the old planks, and the hollow humming of 


180 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


ropes and sail. Harriet felt a kind of bewilder- 
ment come over her. This was not her life that 
she was leading; she was another girl, skimming 
thus on a frail craft across a threatening sea. 
Everything behind was lost, everything ahead was 
dark. When would some greater wave swamp 
them, some jagged rock pierce the hull beneath 
them? Or — as at the end of a long breathless pe- 
riod the boat still drove onward, the waves and 
rocks still sparing them — or was some Hand 
guiding them? 

“Ah!” cried Lois. 

The shadow was passing. There were silver 
white-caps close in front; then the moonlight 
streamed into the boat. Harriet saw Lois’s 
strained features, intent on the waves ahead. She 
saw the quick and skilful movements of the girl’s 
hand, easing the boat at every wave, letting the 
bow fall off, bringing it again closer to the wind, 
every instant managing the craft. Then the 
bright eyes seemed to gleam with joyous fire, as 
Lois stretched out her hand. 

6 i There ! On the rock ! ’ ’ 

Harriet could see nothing at first — nothing, 
though she strained her eyes ; nothing, though she 
peered under her hand. There were wave-tops, 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 


181 


leaping, leaping; there was spray; there was the 
wind in her face. Lois turned the boat again, and 
Harriet clambered to the windward side, to look 
again. Again she saw nothing. 

But suddenly — was that the rock, or a triple 
cluster of — of something? — It was gone! 

But Harriet saw, nearer at hand, a spurt of 
spray leap high into the air. There came the 
sound of a blow of a wave on a rock. The warn- 
ing showed the position of the foremost of the in- 
nocent-named, horribly deadly Chickens, whose 
whole cluster must be close in front. Harriet 
knew how Lois ought to make the passage through 
them : she should sail to the opening between the 
next two, luff through it, pass close beside the 
Hen, and let the boat fall off again on the same 
tack, in order to pass two more of the Chickens. 
Could Lois do it? 

“Stay where you are, Harriet,” called Lois. 
‘ ‘ I will put you right alongside. ’ y And once more 
the boat tacked. 

The rock, the triple group, the bunched and mo- 
tionless thing, appeared again, larger off the port 
bow. Harriet was sure of it. Though a wave 
broke right over it, it reappeared. The water sub- 
sided, and left it there. 


182 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


‘ ‘ Scream ! ’ ’ cried Lois. The two girls screamed, 
together. And — yes, white faces turned to see 
them. 

“Now!” cried Lois. She brought the boat di- 
rectly into the wind, counting on its momentum 
to bring them past the waiting three before the 
wind and waves should stop it. 

Oh, the long slow moment, minute, hour, while 
Harriet stretched her hands over the gunwale. 
The boat surged forward deliberately, madden- 
ingly slow. Yet at last the three were close 
aboard, they were rising to their feet ; with stiff- 
ened muscles, w T ith footing insecure beneath the 
waves, they were trying to cast themselves into 
the boat. Well it was that Harriet was there to 
help, that Lois could free one hand, and that each 
was strong of wrist and arm ! By hook or crook, 
clumsily, bruising themselves, the three crawled 
and were hauled on board. 

The boat had not lost its headway. Lois pulled 
the tiller toward her, the bow swung, the wind blew 
hard against the sail. Slowly, too slowly, the boat 
drove on; slowly some harsh thing scraped against 
the side. Had a wave then lifted and dropped 
her on the jagged rock the seams would have 
opened. But that moment there was a lull in the 


WHAT GIRLS CAN DO 183 

waves, the scraping ceased, and the little craft 
sailed out into the open water. 

No fear now ! Nothing to meet except the wind 
and waves to which they knew they could bid de- 
fiance. Relief in all hearts brought to each eye 
warm tears of thankfulness. 


CHAPTER XII 


A CHANGE OF HEART 

T HE two boys, though well trained and hardy, 
needed some minutes in order to drive the 
stiffness from their cramped limbs. Yet it was 
not long before Neil sat near Lois, ready to give 
assistance. She offered him the tiller, but he 
smiled and said, “Only if it ’s too much for you.” 
And she, keyed to the exploit, made confident by 
his confidence, skilfully threaded the channel back 
into the harbor. Then, laying the course toward 
the village, they met and turned back the boatmen 
coming late to the rescue. 

Pelham, carefully nursing his arm, sat upright, 
and with Harriet snuggled close to him, watched 
and appreciated Lois’s skill. But Bert, though 
carefully covered for warmth, lay silent and un- 
responsive in the bottom of the boat. They 
thought him ill, but when, on reaching the float, 
they wished to assist him ashore, he climbed out 
by himself and staggered ahead of them along 
the pier, to lose himself in the shadows of the path 
m 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


185 


that led to the garage. When they in their turn 
reached the beach, they heard the last of his steps 
dying away as he stumbled up the hill. 

“I almost hope he ’s sick,” said Lois drily. 
“Otherwise I should have my own opinion of his 
manners.” 

“Wait,” said Pelham. “Let me tell you what 
happened on the rock. After we had tried to sig- 
nal, and it began to look as if the spindle might 
break, Bert begged Neil and me to swim ashore 
and leave him.” 

“No!” cried the girls. 

“It ’s true,” he replied. And Neil, to whom 
the girls turned their astonished faces, nodded 
earnestly. “He meant it,” went on Pelham. 
“He would n’t look at Neil, but spoke to me. Yet 
it was Neil who was on his mind. He said: 
4 1 ’ve been mighty mean to Neal. I smashed his 
first aeroplane, and I stole the Eagle, just to spite 
him. He risked his life to save me when I went 
overboard — went overboard after trying to 
hurt him! He ’s risking his life for me now. 
Now I can’t swim, but he can get you ashore. Go 
and save yourselves ; I ’m not worth saving. ’ — 
Oh, yes, he meant it all.” And Pelham gazed 
thoughtfully up the shadowy path. 


186 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“But you did n't go,” said Harriet proudly, lay- 
ing her hand upon her brother’s shoulder. 

Wincing, he carefully removed it, to hold it 
kindly. “I ’m not so sure we could have got 
ashore ourselves. You see, by that time we were 
pretty tired, and there was this arm of mine to 
bother us. But we should never have left him 
after that offer of his. I felt — ” Pelham hesi- 
tated how to express himself. 

“It surprised me, but I felt fond of him, ,, said 
Neil quietly. 

Pelham nodded. “That ’s it. And I shall 
never forget what he said next. ‘If this spindle 
breaks, don’t bother trying to save me. There ’s 
no hope for any of us if you do. This iron rod 
is heavy enough to take me to the bottom, and I 
shall hang on and go with it l 9 To save us — think 
of it!” 

“And he proved he meant it,” said Neil. 
“When the boat came you had to get in first, Pel- 
ham, because you were nearest, and on account 
of your arm. Bert made me go next ; he would n’t 
budge till he saw me safely started.” 

The girls remembered it now. And they too 
gazed thoughtfully after Bert. 

“He didn’t thank you girls,” explained Pel- 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


187 


ham, “because he was ashamed of himself. I ’ll 
never say, after this, that a fellow mayn’t have 
good in him at the bottom. 

“And we ’ll all,” added Neil, “make friends 
again in the morning.” 

They were all silent for a moment, making 
themselves that inward promise. Then Pelham 
said, “In the meanwhile Neil and I will try to 
thank you for us all.” 

“The boatmen would have got you off,” an- 
swered Lois. 

“In another forty-five minutes,” remarked Pel- 
ham. “And every minute the tide still ris- 
ing.” 

“Forty-five minutes more!” said Neil softly to 
himself. 

There was no other attempt to thank the girls, 
yet the boys managed to express their belief that 
they could scarcely have lasted another three quar- 
ters of an hour. Then Neil took his way home. 
“Tell Mr. Winslow,” he called back, “that the 
Venture ought to be safe. I ’ll fetch her in the 
morning.” The other three climbed the hill, to 
find Mrs. Winslow and Ruth just returning, and 
to relieve their fears. Word was sent to Howard 
at the store, who first telephoned for a doctor, and 


188 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

then managed to get word to his father of the 
happenings of the evening. 

Mr. Winslow, returning in the car, found the 
doctor just finishing the setting of Pelham’s arm. 
The boy was very grumpy. “I knew the arm was 
broken,” he said, “but I hoped it wasn’t. Now 
how shall I sail or swim or play baseball for the 
rest of the summer?” 

Said Harriet, “You ’ve got a chance to show 
how ornamental you can be.” 

“And the way it was broken!” he complained. 
“Just hit by a falling gaff.” 

His sister came and kissed him. She whispered, 
“I ’m satisfied with what you ’ve done to-day. 
Saving Neil and Bert!” 

‘ ‘ And having to be saved myself, ’ ’ he grumbled. 
But he looked more cheerful. 

“And think, Pelham,” said Mrs. Winslow. 
“You can talk of to-day’s happenings to the end 
of your life — and you can improve on them, too, 
when once you are old enough to talk of the days 
when you were a boy.” 

And so she coaxed a smile from him. 
“Doctor,” said Mr. Winslow, “come with me 
out to the garage. I may have another patient 
for you there.” 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


189 


But when they rapped at Bert’s door they were 
not admitted. The man declared, from within, 
that he was in bed, that he was all right, that he 
needed no help, that he was n’t hungry, that he 
was very sleepy — “ Anything,” as Mr. Winslow 
said to the doctor, under his breath, “to keep us 
out. — We ’ll see you in the morning, then, Bert,” 
he called cheerily. “Don’t worry about doing 
any work till you ’re thoroughly rested.” But, 
though he listened carefully, he heard no answer. 
Taking leave of the doctor, he went back to the 
house. 

There he called the family together around him. 
“I should of course dismiss Bert in the morning,” 
he said, “but for the bravery and unselfishness 
that he at last displayed. I think that, as Pelham 
says, he is ashamed of himself. Tell me now, how 
much is known, outside this house, of his stealing 
the Eagle, and trying to run away in the Ven- 
turer 9 

They made out that it was surprisingly little. 
Neil’s grandfather knew, and Dick doubtless 
guessed; but Howard had thought to warn Dick 
to say nothing. To those who had asked about 
the dredging the boys had said that they were 
learning how to do it; and when the Eagle was 


190 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

found and Bert went off in the Venture the 
harbor had actually been deserted. Even the 
maids in the kitchen could have known little of the 
matter; they had spent the afternoon at a fair, 
and had returned late, just before the storm. 

“Keep it all as quiet as you can,” warned Mr. 
Winslow. ‘ ‘ It will save Bert some mortification. ’ 9 

The next morning Howard and Pelham, who 
slept in the upper story, were roused by footsteps 
overhead. “Some one on the roof?” asked Pel- 
ham in surprise. “It must be father,” answered 
Howard, ‘ ‘ on the captain *s walk . 9 9 Hastily dress- 
ing, while Howard explained that the “captain’s 
walk” was the roof-platform which so many re- 
tired sea-captains built for the purpose of scan- 
ning the ships, and which Mr. Winslow had imi- 
tated on his own house, the boys climbed to the 
roof, where Mr. Winslow was just shutting up his 
spy-glass. 

“See,” he said, pointing to the open bay, “Neil 
was right about the Venture. She drifted be- 
yond the point, at least two miles after she was 
left; but her anchor must have kept her head to 
the wind. It found bottom in shoaler water, and 
held her through the storm.” 

Pelham tried to recall, as he gazed out upon the 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


191 


water, blue with a brisk breeze, but without a sin- 
gle whitecap, how fiercely the wind had raged last 
night. In the distance lay the Venture , neither 
rolling nor tugging at her anchor. And a smaller 
cat-boat was just sailing up alongside. 

“ Somebody is boarding her!” cried Howard. 

“It ’s Neil,” answered Mr. Winslow. “His 
grandfather has sailed him out there, and the boy 
will sail the Venture back. In this good breeze 
he ’ll be back by nine o’clock. — But see here,” 
and he opened the spy-glass again. “Pelham, 
look at the old Hen, and tell me what you see.” 
He held the glass for the boy to look. 

Turning toward the inner harbor, Pelham 
trained the glass upon the group of rocks that 
now showed their peaceable heads above the wa- 
ter. In that spot the breeze was less, the waves 
almost quiet, and in the lee of the greater boulder 
there was a calm and glassy surface. How differ- 
ent from last night when, in the darkness, buffeted 
by the breakers, the three had sat upon that 
slippery dome, clinging to the spindle — the 
spindle f 

“It ’s gone!” he cried. 

“Broken short off,” said Mr. Winslow, gravely. 
“After it went you couldn’t have stayed another 


192 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

minute. There ’s no guessing when it went. All 
we can say is that the girls’ risk was worth tak- 
ing.” 

Silently he led the way down into the house. 
There was wonder and thankfulness when the 
story was told. Breakfast and the attentive doc- 
tor kept the family busy until nine, when the girls, 
going out to the piazza, reported Neil to have just 
dropped anchor. The next report was, “He ’s 
pulled up the Eagle!” And finally they cried, 
“He ’s got the dredge and the gasolene cans!” 
Neil finally presented himself at the house, to re- 
port to his employer that he had done all he could 
to repair the misfortunes of yesterday. 4 4 And the 
men,” he finished, 4 4 will come at low tide to raise 
the Hera.” 

Mr. Winslow laid a hand on his shoulder. 
4 4 This has been an expensive affair for me,” he 
said, 4 4 yet I ’m entirely satisfied, since no lives 
were lost. — And now, Neil, how do you feel to- 
ward Bert! Is there any reason why you and 
he can’t become friends!” 

Neil, straight and slim, open-faced and honest, 
looked him frankly in the eye. 4 4 There is no rea- 
son on my side, sir,” he declared. “I bear him 
no grudge at all.” 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


193 


‘ ‘ Good ! ’ ’ said his hearty employer. * ‘ Now sup- 
pose you come with me to the garage, and see if 
we can’t patch up a peace.” 

The other boys hovered in the distance, and 
watched them go. “You see, Neil,” said Mr. 
Winslow as they walked side by side, “Bert has 
his good points, and he ’s so young that I thought 
he ’d outgrow his bad ones.” 

Bert young? Neil looked his surprise so 
clearly that Mr. Winslow smiled his amusement. 
* 4 Twenty-one is old to you, maybe, but it ’s young 
to me. If occasionally he ’s jealous of any one 
that might take his job away, or if sometimes he 
forgets his responsibilities, it ’s because he ’s still 
hot-headed. But I admit he needed a lesson, and 
I hope he ’s got it.” They walked on in silence 
to the door of the garage, when, opening it, Mr. 
Winslow exclaimed: 

“A lesson? I think he ’s learned it already. 
Look at this garage ! ’ ’ And he surveyed the place 
in astonishment. 

Neil understood. The garage was usually un- 
tidy ; and though the car was always in the finest 
order, the tools, cans, hose, and cotton waste were 
invariably strewed about the little building. But 
now not only was the car (which last night had 


194 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


come back splashed with mud to the top of the 
windshield) clean and bright, but the hose was 
coiled and hung up, the tools were in place, the 
bench was neat, and the floor had not a speck of 
dirt visible upon it. Neil echoed his employer’s 
whistle. 

“He ’s done three hours’ work already,” he 
said. 

“Bert!” called Mr. Winslow. But, though his 
voice echoed in the room, and must have been 
audible upstairs, there came no answer. Mr. 
Winslow strode to the stairs, and climbed them to 
the roomy attic. There was no response to his 
knock on the door, but it opened at once to his 
hand. The bedroom was empty. 

But “Another miracle!” said Mr. Winslow 
quietly to the boy who had followed him. For the 
bedroom had been worse than the workroom, with 
its litter of newspapers, collars, towels, pipes, and 
tobacco, and its unmade bed. Now it, too, had 
been put to rights, the bed made neatly, the floor 
swept, the mirror straightened on the wall, the 
drawers of the bureau all pushed in, and each ar- 
ticle of furniture set in its proper place. “Too 
good to be true ! ’ ’ exclaimed the owner. 

But Neil, understanding better the state of mind 


A CHANGE OF HEAET 


195 


which Bert must have been in, saw that something 
else might not be too bad to be true. In the neat- 
ness of the unoccupied room he thought he saw a 
good-by. And stepping quickly to the bureau he 
opened the upper drawer. 

“ Empty !” 

“Empty?” cried Mr. Winslow. “What does 
that mean?” 

Quickly Neil opened drawer after drawer. 
They were empty and brushed out. He looked 
around the room, then opening a door, showed the 
closet perfectly bare. “His suitcase is gone.” 

“Then he *s gone too!” cried Mr. Winslow. 

The boy saw a piece of paper, the one thing not 
neatly put away, lying upon the bureau-top. 
There was writing on it. He handed it to Mr. 
Winslow, who read it aloud. 

“Give my wages to Neil. He deserves them.” 
There was no signature, no other word, but it was 
plain that Bert had gone away. 

Mr. Winslow stood thinking. “He was afraid 
of what I might do to him.” 

“I think it was more than that, sir,” said Neil. 
“That message means that he ’s sorry.” 

“You are right,” said Mr. Winslow, thought- 
fully. “Neil, that is not the sort of man that we 


196 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


ought to let go to the bad. For that may be the 
next step.” He drew a time-table from his 
pocket. “How long ago,” he asked, “do you 
think he went!” 

“Dick told me when I landed,” said the boy, 
“that he heard Bert working here an hour ago.” 

“There ’s no Boston train since then,” said Mr. 
Winslow. “But he may have taken the down- 
train to Woods Hole, intending to cross on the 
boat to New Bedford. And that gives us our 
chance, for the boat does not start for half an 
hour yet.” He went quickly down the stairs. 
“Open the big doors,” he directed, and climbed 
into the car. “Now,” when the doors were open 
and the engine purring, “get in. I shall need 
you. ’ ’ 

In the big car the two shot quickly down the 
road to the village. “Now,” said Mr. Winslow 
as they neared the little square, “I shall go into 
the store ; you cross over to the railroad station. 
If you can, find out whether Bert took the train, 
but without telling that we are hunting for him. 
This is all on the quiet.” He drew up before the 
post-office, and went in, while Neil carelessly saun- 
tered over to the depot. 

Since in the little place every one knew every 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


197 


one else, the station agent immediately hailed Neil. 
The man was ticket-seller, freight handler, bag- 
gage-master, and though he loved to talk, kept busy 
over a pile of express matter. 4 4 You going too?” 
he asked. 

“Too?” asked Neil, smiling to himself. 
“Who ’s ahead of me?” 

4 4 Why, Bert. He ’s just gone down to Woods 
Hole. But there won’t be a train for you for two 
hours yet.” 

4 4 Oh,” said the boy, “I ’m just with Mr. Wins- 
low in the car. Maybe he ’s going, but he 
hasn’t told me.” He sauntered across the 
square, stood in the door of the post-office till he 
caught his master’s eye, then nodded ever so 
slightly. Mr. Winslow came leisurely out, and to- 
gether they took their places in the car. 

4 4 He took the train,” said Neil, looking straight 
forward. 

4 4 Good! I could find out nothing.” 

Without another word Mr. Winslow set the car 
on the road to the distant steamer pier, twelve 
miles away. He managed the car well. The 
sharp turns were known to him, and he slowed 
down for them; the traffic in comfortable village 
streets, where the butcher’s man stopped his cart 


198 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


to chat with the grocer in the middle of the road, 
did not overcome his temper; the wayside dwell- 
ings, where the Ashman’s cart stood squarely 
across the way, or a pedler’s horse strayed idly, 
or children played in the road, caused him only 
the least delay, always remembering “ safety 
first .’ 9 They reached at last the narrow and 
crooked streets of Woods Hole, from one of which 
they saw that the steamer was still at her wharf. 
Out upon the pier the car finally rolled, Mr. 
Winslow stopped it, and the two leaped out. Mr. 
Winslow keenly scanned the crowd on the boat for 
a glimpse of the fugitive. But Neil, still with the 
better understanding of Bert’s state of mind, 
wisely looked for the place where the crowd was 
least, and quickly spied one lonely, dejected figure, 
sitting upon a barrel among the piles of freight in 
the bow. 

4 ‘There!” he said in a low voice. 

“Come with me,” said Mr. Winslow. And with 
Neil at his side he walked to the edge of the pier, 
close to the melancholy Bert. 

The chauffeur had been something of a dandy 
and a swaggerer, but he now showed no sign of 
this. As carefully as he had made neat the gar- 
age and his room, just as carelessly had he dressed 


A CHANGE OF HEAKT 


199 


himself for his journey. His clothes were un- 
brushed, and so must have been his hair, to judge 
from the locks which appeared under the edges of 
his cap, which he had pulled down over his eyes. 
He had not found time to shave, as was evident 
from the stubble on his chin. But these signs 
were scarcely needed to reveal the change in the 
inner man. His rounded shoulders, his depressed 
aspect, the fact that the cigarette on which he was 
nervously biting had gone out a few moments after 
it had first been lighted, all showed that his self- 
confidence was gone. 

But he had not expected pursuit, for he had not 
concealed himself. He started when his name was 
called ; and when he saw Mr. Winslow, he seemed 
puzzled as to how he got there, until he saw the 
automobile. Unwillingly he came to the railing. 

“Bert,” said Mr. Winslow, “I want you to come 
back.” 

“And if I don’t,” said Bert gloomily, “you’ll 
send a constable aboard for me, or have the police 
waiting at New Bedford when the boat arrives.” 

“To arrest you?” asked Mr. Winslow. “But 
why?” 

“The Eagle ’s gone,” said Bert. 

“No. Neil fished it up this morning.” 


200 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


“Then,” said the man, “I suppose the Ven- 
ture ’s smashed up, somewhere.” 

“Why, not- exactly,” answered Mr. Winslow. 
“Her anchor held her, and she ’s back in the har- 
bor at this minute.” 

“Well, anyway,” began Bert again, as if de- 
termined to incriminate himself, “the Hera ’s 
certainly sunk.” 

“She certainly is,” admitted Mr. Winslow. 
“But we don’t lay that to you. No, Bert; I 
haven’t the slightest intention of having you ar- 
rested. I hoped you ’d come back to work 
again. ’ ’ 

The chauffeur, genuinely surprised, cast one 
irresolute glance at his suitcase. Then he shook 
his head. “I won’t go back,” he declared, 
“where I ’ve made a fool of myself.” 

“Why, Bert,” said Mr. Winslow, “if you go 
away I ’ll have to explain to everybody why you 
left. I don’t think any one knows the facts about 
the Eagle except my family and Neil’s grand- 
father. Certainly the servants don’t, and what- 
ever Dick may know he ’s promised not to tell. 
You yourself know how deserted the harbor was 
when you took the Venture out yesterday. As to 
the Hera’s being wrecked — ” 


A CHANGE OF HEART 


201 


“That was my doing,’ ’ struck in Bert quickly; 
“I know it. But it ’s the one thing of all that I 
didn’t mean to do.” 

“Let me take the blame of that,” said Neil. 
“The fact is, I ’m bearing it already. The boat- 
men have been telling me very plainly that I was 
a fool to try the passage in that storm.” 

“And you have n’t told what really happened?” 
cried Bert. 

“Certainly not,” replied Neil with emphasis. 

The dropping of Bert’s eyes, the clenching and 
unclenching of his hands, showed that the reply 
affected him strongly. 

“One other thing,” said Mr. Winslow. “No- 
body knows that you intended to go away this 
morning, unless you yourself told. My wife 
doesn’t even know, nor the children. All you 
have to do is simply to come back.” 

Bert looked up again. “And you really want 
me?” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” answered Mr. 
Winslow simply. 

The man looked at Neil. “And you ’re will- 
ing?” 

Neil’s answer was effective. He sprang across 
to the edge of the boat, climbed the railing, and 


202 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


picked up Bert’s suitcase. Then putting his hand 
on the man’s arm, he turned him, with a gentle 
pressure, toward the gangway. ‘ 1 Come on, Bert, ’ ’ 
he said. 

And Bert went with him, unresisting. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 

T HE automobile, with Bert steering, returned 
home so soon that the short absence was 
scarcely remarked. The family greeted Bert 
warmly; his belated unselfishness had touched 
them, and to his embarrassment the man found 
himself kindly regarded. But he was soon free 
of their friendly attention, for low tide and a fall- 
ing wind had brought the boats and men that were 
to lift the Hera . Under the good conditions the 
little boat was easily and quickly raised and was 
taken to the Winslows’ landing, where on the 
cradle that ran on the track that came up from the 
water, the damaged yacht was set upright and 
dragged up high and dry. 

The men all shook their heads as they looked 
her over. The staunch little boat had crashed at 
full speed into the rock, staving in not only her 
planking but also her frame. The mast and rig- 
ging were likewise badly injured. It would re- 
quire skilled men to repair her, and the job would 
203 


204 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


take some time. 4 4 Pretty nigli impossible to do 
that before the race,” was the general verdict. 

The boat-builder in the next town, when ap- 
pealed to by an anxious party which hurried to 
him in the automobile, looked doubtful when told 
what was required of him. 4 4 My boatmen can’t 
do the work, ’ 9 said Mr. Winslow. 4 4 They have n ’t 
the experience or the material. Can’t you do it 
for me in time for the race?” 

44 I can’t do it nohow,” was the answer. 4 4 You 
know I ’d like to oblige you, Mr. Winslow, but 
I ’ve promised enough work before the race to 
keep my men busy from daylight till dark. No, 
sir; it can’t be done.” 

And so Howard and Pelham and Neil had to 
give up all hope of the race. Three persons, the 
skipper and two helpers, were by the rules of the 
race allowed in each boat ; and the three boys had 
counted on a most exciting time. And now — to 
win the race and the Eagle was left to Ruth. 

Ruth looked frightened. 4 4 Oh, I had merely 
hoped to come in second. I shall never do well 
if you are n ’t also in the race. ’ ’ 

4 4 If you don’t win,” declared Howard grimly, 
4 4 you aren’t any sister of mine.” 

4 4 Take my boat,” she begged. 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 205 


But though a moment’s joy shone in his face at 
the suggestion, Howard was unselfish. * ‘ N ever ! ’ 9 
he answered. “And besides, it ’s against the 
rules of the series. Owners must steer. But see 
here, Ruth, you take Neil. No matter how young 
he is, he knows the racing game. You and he and 
Dick will make a good crew.” 

Dick had proved himself steady and depend- 
able. But Ruth had her inspiration. “No!” she 
cried. “I shall take with me Lois and Harriet!” 

Both of the other girls flushed. Though they 
excused themselves from the responsibility, they 
eagerly longed for the experience; and to their 
satisfaction Ruth stuck to her decision, and her 
father agreed. 

“Of course it ’s the last race,” he said, “and 
if you lose it you lose the Eagle. But Harriet is 
already a good sailor, and if Lois is only half as 
clever as she was last night, you couldn’t have a 
better helper.” And thus in spite of the impor- 
tance of the race, the crew of the Rhoda was made 
up of the three girls. 

“And if we win,” cried Ruth, “I ’ll hoist a 
broom to the masthead, like old Van Tromp, and 
sail through the fleet.” 

“Why not hoist the Eagle?” rejoined her 


206 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

brother. Then an idea seized him, as he showed 
by an exclamation; but he would not explain. In 
private he consulted his father, as the girls saw, 
and Mr. Winslow gave reluctant consent to some 
design ; then Howard took Pelham and rushed off 
to find Neil. 

Meanwhile Neil and Dick had got the Rhoda 
out upon the railway, above high water, and were 
busily at work on her bottom. All weeds and 
slime were scraped off, she was dried and 
smoothed, and finally a coat of black lead was ap- 
plied. Hands got thoroughly black in the work, 
and somehow a touch of the lead was added to 
Dick’s nose. Above the waterline the boat was 
varnished. When the work was done the hull of 
the Rhoda was as smooth and slippery as glass. 

Then the rigging was overhauled. The sails 
were thoroughly examined for signs of weakness, 
and the jib was discarded for a better fitting one. 
Every rope was changed, and the new sheet 
kneaded and pounded and run back and forth 
through pulleys until it was perfectly flexible, and 
entirely free of all tendency to kink. Only when 
this was finished did the two workers think of the 
neatness of the boat. Her deck and cock-pit now 
were scrubbed, and the brass fittings polished. 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 207 


When all this was done Dick remarked that “she 
began to look ’s if she might be got ready for the 
race.” He counted on spending some hours yet, 
adding little touches. 

It was at this point that Howard and Pelham 
demanded Neil’s attention, explained their plan, 
and discussed it with him. And it was Fred 
Barnes who on the day of the race experienced, 
as Howard meant he should, a thrill of horror. 

The two boys met on the yacht-club pier at 
Marlow, Fred most immaculate in flannels, How- 
ard a little more rough and ready in duck. “See 
him come,” muttered Howard to Pelham. 
“You ’d think he owns the place.” 

Fred walked straight up to Howard. 
“Where ’s your boat?” he demanded. “I see 
you came over in your motor-cat.” 

“Oh,” answered Howard carelessly, “the 
Hera ’s stove. Can’t hope to have her in shape 
for sailing in less than a week.” 

Fred drew himself up. “The race is to-day, 
you know,” he said coldly. “You can't expect to 
have it postponed.” 

“I don’t need to,” replied Howard. “My sis- 
ter will win the race for us.” 

“No doubt,” said Fred drily. He was turn- 


208 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


ing away, and Howard was winking at Pelham, 
when the other turned back. “Oh, by the way,” 
he asked with careful carelessness, “you ’ve got 
the Eagle here?” 

He had had it on his mind from the first. “Of 
course it ’s here,” answered Howard cheerfully. 
“You can’t miss it.” 

“Where, then,” demanded Fred. 

“Seeing ’s believing, isn’t it?” asked How- 
ard. “It ’s there, on the Rhoda.” And he 
pointed. 

Fred saw a glistening object on the Rhoda 9 s 
masthead. He could not believe his eyes. “Do 
you mean,” he cried, deeply shocked, “that she 
is carrying the Eagle there?” 

“Why not?” inquired the innocent Howard. 

“Why,” sputtered Fred, “it’s not safe. Be- 
sides, it ’s improper.” 

“It ’s proper if it ’s safe,” rejoined Howard. 
“I ’ve been studying the rules of the races. And 
you ’ll find it safe enough.” 

Fred seized his arm. “You come with me to 
the judges,” he insisted. “I declare I won’t start 
in the race till the Eagle ’s removed.” 

But he had to. From the judges he had scant 
sympathy, probably because Fred Barnes was a 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 209 


person to whom the feeling was unknown. With 
polite smiles they read the conditions of the races 
for the Eagle, and declared that the Winslows 
were quite within their rights in carrying the 
trophy at the Rhoda’s masthead. In disgust 
Fred stalked away from them without a word; 
called harshly down to his boatman on the float, 
and embarked for his own little sloop. 

“ You see,” remarked Howard, “how he speaks 
to his men. Nobody ever works for him with 
much spirit. I believe they ’d throw the race to 
us to spite him, if they dared. — Here are the 
girls.” 

The Rhoda had tacked in close to the wharf; 
the three girls, all neat and ready for the race in 
their middy blouses and short skirts, were recog- 
nized by many on the pier as contestants in the 
most important race of the day, and were much 
applauded. The three looked up at the boys on 
the wharf, and each in her way signaled sym- 
pathy at their absence and a demand for good 
wishes. Then they sailed out again beyond the 
anchorage. 

The other races were started — the motor-cats, 
from which race the Venture abstained, the sail- 
ing cats, the larger sloops. Last of all the fifteen- 


210 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


footers got ready, tacking about in a fleet of nearly 
twenty boats, gathered from all the shore-towns 
within ten miles. All had contested for the Eagle 
for the last three years, some few of them had won 
at times; but the Rhoda and Fred Barnes’s Flora, 
now that the Hera was disabled, were regarded as 
the best, and were expected to settle the tie that 
deadlocked them. 

They started in a close bunch. The breeze was 
stiff, and one of the leaders carried away a stay, 
then snapped her mast. The rest drove by and 
left her behind. The first leg of the race took 
them out of sight behind the lighthouse ; when the 
racers emerged they were in a long line, the 
slower ones already well behind, the Rhoda and 
the Flora together in front. “It ’s between 
them,” said Howard, watching from the pier. 
“But I wish the wind weren’t slackening. The 
Rhoda is best in a good breeze, and Fred Barnes 
likes a drifting race.” 

After a while it looked as if a drifting race it 
was to be. The breeze grew weaker and weaker ; 
around the second buoy the yachts huddled to- 
gether, for some of the slower ones had caught 
up. As they started for the long beat home the 
waves were flattening, the masts swayed list- 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 211 


lessly, the sails barely filled. Then the wind in- 
creased slightly, but not for long. To the watch- 
ers on the pier it seemed certain that only little 
flaws were to be expected. And in the fitful wind 
the Flora began to draw ahead. 

“Oh, dear!” murmured Howard. 

Pelham leaned close to him. “Are you sorry 
you put the Eagle on the mast?” 

Howard groaned. “What a fool I was to 
brag!” 

On board the Rhoda the three girls sat silent. 
Ruth held the tiller delicately; she was ready to 
work for every advantage that any little flaw 
might bring. But both she and Harriet looked 
with fascination at the Flora as she began to slip 
away from them. She sailed steadily; all the 
others lagged. Then Ruth also glanced regret- 
fully at the shining figure at the masthead. How 
she wished it were safe on shore ! 

Harriet was thinking of Fred Barnes’s face as 
the girls saw it when the two boats rounded the 
buoy close together. He had not looked at them; 
it had seemed as if he did not know they were 
there. Perhaps it was contempt; perhaps he 
thought it manly to ignore them. But she 
clenched her hands. It seemed unbearable that 


212 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

such a fellow should take the Eagle away from 
Ruth. 

Lois had been looking out into the bay. She 
rose and stepped forward, and from in front of 
the mast scanned the whole course. Fred, she 
saw, was slowly drawing toward the shore; the 
others, as they rounded the stake, all were follow- 
ing him. Even Ruth had put the Rhoda on the 
same tack. Lois looked again out into the bay, 
where was no headland, no shoal, nothing to in- 
terfere with their choosing any course they 
pleased, if only they crossed the line between the 
pier and the stake-boat when coming from the 
right direction. Lois saw, away from the shore, 
the bluer ripple of the surface of the waves. And 
she went back to the cockpit. 

“Ruth,” she said, “there is more wind off- 
shore.” 

Nothing more was needed. Ruth’s eyes lighted 
up; Harriet clasped her hands. Neither of them 
looked for proof of Lois’s words; they knew that 
her judgment was better than theirs. Without a 
word Ruth put down the helm, and headed the 
Rhoda out into the bay. 

To one unskilled in racing it might have seemed 
as if the Rhoda had abandoned the contest and 




Ruth held her boat true to its course 


4 



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THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 215 


was starting for home. All the other boats 
were tacking along the shore, making the best of 
the little flaws that came from the land. The 
Rhoda stood boldly away till a quarter mile sep- 
arated her from the others. But to those who 
were watching it was evident that, light though 
the wind was everywhere, it was best with her. 
Her sails remained filled, and lightly heeling, she 
kept steadily on. 

Pelham, at first pleased, at length began to 
worry. “ Aren’t the others nearer? Isn’t she 
sailing too far out ? ’ ’ The Rhoda certainly looked 
much the farthest from the line. 

“ Leave it to the girls,” said Howard wisely. 

It is so difficult to judge the distances in watch- 
ing a yacht race that others began to murmur 
around the two boys. 4 ‘The girls are risking too 
much. — They never can make it. — Bad judg- 
ment ! ’ ’ 

But Howard retained his confidence. “They 
mean to make it in one long tack out and another 
home. Fred, on his system, must do a lot of zig- 
zagging and lose time. Wait.” 

The waiting was very difficult. “Why don’t 
they turn?” groaned Pelham. 

For the girls themselves the waiting was most 


216 THE GOLDEN EAGLE 

difficult of all. Their intention was as Howard 
said, to waste no time or headway in frequent 
tackings, but to reach the line by one long run out 
and another in. Ruth began at last, by more fre- 
quent glances toward Lois, to show that she knew 
the time was near when they must tack. Harriet 
looked from one to the other. But Lois sat stead- 
ily, from moment to moment taking her bearings, 
and waiting until the long sure run was promised. 
Her eyes did not cease scanning the distant land- 
marks and the finishing line until at last she said : 

“I think we can make it now.” 

And immediately Ruth swung the Rhoda about. 

To those who watched on shore the contest was 
most curious. Nearer and nearer to the line crept 
the fleet of boats, the Flora leading. From far 
out in the bay swept in the Rhoda , bending well 
to the stiffer breeze, every inch of her canvas 
drawing, but oh, so much farther away! It 
seemed impossible for her to reach the line first. 
And yet the Flora and her following had dropped 
to leeward of the line, and had to work their way 
up to it rod by rod ; while the Rhoda , safe to wind- 
ward, had but to keep steadily onward without 
check. 

The skilled yachtsmen among the watchers be- 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 217 


gan to exchange knowing glances. It was a con- 
test of the kind they liked to see, where knowl- 
edge and courage struck out an independent line 
for itself, and won — perhaps ! 

On the beach stood two excited watchers, a man 
dressed as a chauffeur and a boy dressed as a 
boatman. They were close together; the man’s 
hand was on the boy’s shoulder, and he was press- 
ing it hard. “We ’ll win!” he exclaimed. “Oh, 
Neil, tell me we ’ll win!” 

And on the pier Pelham was pounding Howard 
on the back. “They ’ll do it, won’t they? Oh, 
Howard, say they ’ll do it!” 

On the boat the three girls had nothing to do but 
wait. At the turn Lois and Harriet had handled 
the sheets like veterans, and now, crouched low 
from the wind, lest they should retard the boat, 
they watched the Flora steadily working toward 
the finish. It was impossible to tell how soon she 
could reach a windward position and cross the 
line. 

“I could scream!” said Harriet below her 
breath. 

The others answered by strained smiles. 

Fred Barnes, in his boat, was scowling more and 
more savagely. His two men were crouching for- 


218 


THE GOLDEN EAGLE 


ward in the cockpit, gravely watching the progress 
of the race, saying no word, carefully avoiding 
looking either at each other or at their employer. 
At the second stake the older of the two had 
pointed to the outer course, advising Fred to take 
it. The lad had decided against him. When, 
looking astern, the men had seen the Rhoda take 
that course, they had exchanged one glance and no 
more, lest Fred should intercept some message of 
satisfaction. The girls’ advantage was very plain 
to them, for Fred by his course was steadily 
dropping to leeward of the line, while the girls 
kept to windward of it. Now Fred was working 
hard to make up this handicap, troubled by the 
thought of his mistake, vexed that the girls had 
been cleverer than he, and disgusted by the knowl- 
edge that should he try to blame his men, they 
could answer that he had not taken their advice. 
He glanced out at the Rhoda. In actual distance 
he had worked to within a hundred yards of the 
line, and was nearer to it ; yet he must make one 
more outward hitch, and he feared it would lose 
him the race. 

His men, solemn as statues, knew that it would. 
And at that moment, in the other boat, Lois drew 
a long breath. Euth, glancing quickly at her, 


THE LAST RACE FOR THE EAGLE 219 


nodded brightly. “Oh, tell me,” cried Harriet. 
“Are we sure?” 

The answer was drowned by the scream of a 
whistle from a nearby motor-boat. But Harriet 
saw Lois smile. Other boats joined in a brief 
chorus, and there came from the pier a faint 
clapping of hands. Ruth’s face was all aglow 
with happiness as she held her boat true to its 
course. The Flora was still struggling slowly 
for position when the boom of a gun from the pier 
announced the winning of the race. With one 
accord the three girls turned their bright glances 
upward to the Eagle at the masthead. 

On the high judges’ stand one of the officials 
turned to another. He uttered one word. 
“Brains !” 

The whole pier-end was alive with waving 
handkerchiefs. On the beach a man and a boy 
were gaily shaking hands. And said Howard to 
Pelham, “Now I ’d like to hoist the broom!” 




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